


The Great Advantage of Being Alive

by enigmaticblue



Series: The Alive Saga [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Human Spike, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 89,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1673414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their experiments on demons, the Initiative stumbles across the properties of Mohra blood, and uses it on Spike. The results aren't exactly pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lab Rat

**Author's Note:**

> Written about ten years ago, and cleaned up for the archive.

“I’m not supposed to be scared of anything/But I don’t know where I am/I wish that I could move but I’m exhausted/And nobody understands (how I feel)/I’m trying hard to breathe now/but there’s no air in my lungs/There’s no one here to talk to/and the pain inside is making me numb./Try to hold this under control…Feeling weak and weary/ walkin’ through this world alone/Everything they say every word of it/cuts me to the bone (and I bleed)/I’ve got something to say/But now I’ve got nowhere to turn/It feels like I’ve been buried/underneath all the weight of the world…Now I’m goin’ through changes, changes/I’m blind and shakin, bound and breakin’/I hope I’ll make it through all these changes…” ~ Three Doors Down, “Changes”

 

When Spike became aware of his surroundings again, he was more than a little surprised to find himself strapped down to a table with a plastic _something_ shoved in his mouth. His duster and shirt were missing, and the men in the lab coats surrounding him were busy fussing with various stainless steel implements. Just the fact that they were paying very little attention to him, as though they were merely marking time until the actual event took place, made him just a little bit nervous.

 

When one lab coat joined the group surrounding him and the pace of activity changed, Spike became more than a little nervous. Fear entered into the picture right about the time that one of the scientists pulled out a scalpel. For one brief, terror-filled moment, Spike was certain that they were going to start dissecting him alive. The cut the man made was shallow, however, and while Spike couldn’t actually see it, he’d been sliced up before. This didn’t feel all that serious. He allowed himself to relax for a brief moment until the latecomer pulled out a glowing green vial and poured it over the wound in his chest.

           

There was another flicker of fear, and then a flash of light that consumed him and warmed him all at the same time. It was that moment that caused him to lose his mind, overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions and sensations. Not only was there the guilt and remorse (pale words when compared with actual feelings) that came from the gaining of his soul, but there was the loss of strength, smell, and hearing that came from losing his demon. There was the heartbeat, the blood pounding in his veins, the sense of terror from becoming human. It was too much, and his mind shut down under the pressure.

           

Later, Spike could never quite say how long he was in that state. It was days at least before a lucid thought ran through his brain, and then it was only long enough to realize that he was in some sort of sterile cell, naked, cold and hungry. He blanked out again after that, but his catatonic state didn’t last nearly long enough for his taste.

           

The second time he came around, there was a lab tech bent on pouring something down his throat, and while he wanted to gag at the chalky taste, a small cunning part of his mind warned him to be a good boy and swallow. It was that same part of him that clung to reality even when all he wanted to do was to retreat into himself again. And it was that part that kept his newfound sanity quiet.

           

The next few days were a miserable exercise in hanging onto his reason by his fingertips while trying to come up with some plan for escape. Every moment seemed consumed by sensations he had nearly forgotten existed. Hunger, thirst, cold, pain, they were all present in a way they had not been when he was a vampire. Spike wanted his duster with a longing he hadn’t thought possible, never mind what it represented. He wanted its armoring effect and its comfortable warmth. He wanted the illusion of being big and bad and scary, so that he himself might begin to believe it again, and perhaps hope that he would find a way out. But meanwhile, he feigned madness and waited, waited for the moment that they let their guard down.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Dr. Walsh?” The technician entered Walsh’s office hesitantly. What they had been able to do—to actually transform a vampire into a human, was phenomenal. Of course, it didn’t mean much if the creature in question went insane afterwards. It seemed that they were going to have to stick to the original plan and concentrate on the computer chip implant rather than working on synthesizing the demon blood.

           

“No change?” Maggie Walsh turned to face her tech. It was more of a statement than a question.

           

The tech shook his head. “The subject has been moving from complete catatonia to periods of raving. He hasn’t shown any signs of improvement.”

           

Dr. Walsh watched the monitor. The subject, named Hostile 17 for their purposes, was curled into a small ball in the corner of the cell. When they had discovered the new HST and the strange properties of its blood, there had been high hopes. To be able to transform vampires into productive members of society would be an accomplishment of the highest order. But whether it was the treatment or the transformation, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to work on the cure for vampirism if all they were going to get were mental patients. It would be more efficient and cost-effective to perfect the chip or destroy the other subjects.

           

“I want another set of tests run,” she finally said. “There’s no need to run another trial, now that we know what the results are likely to be. Once the data has been gathered, prep the subject for transfer to our facility in Arizona. We need the cell for another HST.”

           

The tech looked skeptical. “Pardon me, Doctor, but is it wise to send him outside our facility here?”

           

“Just because Hostile 17 leaves doesn’t mean he’ll actually make it to his destination, Matthews,” Walsh replied. “There’s no need to advertise our mistake.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike stayed curled up as much for warmth as for modesty. He had no idea where his clothes had gone, but they had disappeared while he’d been out of it. His focus at the moment was making plans for an escape; it was the only thing keeping him sane. At some point, he had recognized in himself both a mindless panic and a burning anger. It was the anger that he seized on; anger that someone had decided to play God with his life and had treated him like a thing, a lab rat. Spike had no idea what the reaction would be if he revealed that he wasn’t as crazy as he looked, but he had a suspicion that he wouldn’t see the outside of this facility any time soon in any case. The more harmless and incompetent they thought him, the greater the chance that they would let their guard down at some point.

           

The anger he felt was only heightened by the entrance of a couple of the soldier boys turned caretakers. They had a habit of talking about him as if he wasn’t there, or couldn’t understand, and treating him like something worthless, to be disregarded.

           

“Last set of tests for the idiot,” Matthews announced. “Good thing too. This guy gives me the creeps.”

           

Spike stayed motionless. “Don’t see what Walsh wants with this last set,” the other tech mumbled. “It’s not like there’s been any change.”

           

He fought down the urge to struggle even as the two men manhandled him into a sitting position so they could take a blood sample and blood pressure, among other things. The same two techs had come before for the same purpose, so it wasn’t anything new for Spike, though it was just as uncomfortable this time as it was the first. As the two soldiers made comments and exchanged gossip, he resisted the desire to make his own remarks. They were relaxed around him now, all of them were. No one thought of him as a threat, and he tried to remember that he certainly could be. He tried to disregard the niggling little voice in the back of his head that told him he would be able to do nothing against a couple of well-trained soldiers.

           

The two finished their tests, and then one of them, Walker by his nametag, took the samples. “Be right back,” he promised.

 

This was new. Spike kept his face expressionless, trying to decide what this development meant for him. A few minutes later and the soldier was back with a handful of what looked like hospital scrubs. Walker dumped his bundle at Spike’s feet. “Now what?”

           

Matthews sighed. “We get him dressed, nimrod. It’s not like we can walk him around with nothing on.”

           

Walker took a step backward. “I’m not doing it,” he declared.

           

Matthews rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dick.” The soldier reached down and grabbed Spike’s arm, hauling the smaller man to his feet with a surprising gentleness. “You gonna get dressed, or am I gonna have to do it for you?” he asked.

           

Spike was torn. He could show some understanding and get himself dressed, but how much was too much? Where was the line? If he seemed to understand they might be more cautious, or not let him go at all.

           

That was the biggest problem. Once he made a bid for his freedom, it would be over. Instinctively, Spike knew he had one shot at escape; miss his chance, and there wouldn’t be another. He also knew that there was no way he would manage to escape from the facility itself. As a human, he wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, to manage it except by extreme luck. And his luck hadn’t been great lately.

           

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he stood perfectly still, feigning complete mental incompetence. Thankfully, Matthews’ only reaction was to heave a deeply put-upon sigh and pick up the clothes.

           

A few minutes later, Spike was more clothed than he had been for weeks, and he found himself grateful for that small dignity at least. “Do we use the shackles?” Walker asked doubtfully. “Walsh did say—”

           

Spike tried to look as defenseless as possible. “Come on, man,” Matthews finally replied after some consideration. “The poor guy doesn’t even know where he is. Trust me, you don’t want to freak him out. Put the cuffs on him, and that’s exactly what will happen.”

           

“Fine,” Walker said. “Let’s go, Brain Trust.” They walked him down the hall, one on either side, hanging onto his arms. Spike stole surreptitious looks at his surroundings as they walked. Sterile white cell followed sterile white cell, one after another, each one with a different sort of demon or vampire. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one getting experimented on.

           

Spike didn’t try to keep track of where they were going. He had no desire to find his way back, that was for certain. But more than that, he didn’t plan on coming back. If this escape attempt didn’t work, he was going to make sure it ended in his death, because he wasn’t _ever_ going back there.

           

After a number of featureless hallways, they finally made their way to an airshaft. Walker went up first, with Spike in the middle and Matthews behind him. Spike had decided not to play dumb about climbing the ladder, if only because he didn’t want to find himself thrown over one of their shoulders.

           

They exited into a nearly empty parking lot, and Spike barely kept himself from flinching as the sunlight hit his skin. Aside from a couple cars and a single truck, there was also a large, windowless van, like those used by the utility companies, and Spike knew that was going to be their destination. If he wanted to run for it, it had to be here and now, before they got him into the van. Because once inside, and on the road, he’d be in unfamiliar territory with no easy way out.

           

Spike waited docilely enough, watching as Walker unlocked the driver’s door, and then sprung the lock for the back of the van. Matthews opened the doors and crawled inside, messing with the belts on the seat, making sure it was ready for transport. When Walker came to stand beside him, watching the other soldier and obviously not paying attention to Spike, he knew it was time to act.

           

With one smooth motion, Spike pulled Walker’s billy club out of his belt loop and brought it down on the soldier’s temple. The man collapsed in a boneless heap, and Spike watched as Matthews turned to investigate the sounds. Without hesitation, he jumped into the back, thrusting the club into the other soldier’s stomach, and when he doubled over, hit him over the head too. Spike gave each of them an extra tap on the back of the skull to ensure that they wouldn’t be waking up any time soon.

           

Once the action was over, Spike felt the effects of the adrenaline rush, something he hadn’t experienced since Drusilla had met him in that alley over a hundred years ago. There was gut-churning fear, and a sense of excitement, along with a cold sweat. For one terrified, horrified second he stared at the bodies of the soldiers, and then took to his heels, running as though his life depended on it, knowing that it probably did.

           

When Spike had run as far and as fast as he could, he finally slowed and then stopped. He plowed a hand through sweat-soaked hair and hunkered down in the bushes at the edge of a group of trees. Now that he had a chance to look around Spike could tell that he was still in Sunnydale, near a wooded park at the edge of one of the cemeteries. By instinct alone he had avoided the more populated areas of town, and luck finally seemed to be with him. No one seemed to be following him, or had shouted at him to stop. He knew very well that he probably looked like an escaped mental patient, and it would be an excellent idea to stay out of sight.

 

Spike shivered in the shade of the trees. The thin hospital scrubs he wore were hardly winter wear, even in California, and the slight breeze was rapidly drying his sweat. Gone were the days when temperature had little meaning.

           

It wasn’t only the outside air that was causing him to shiver, however. Now that he had paused in his mad flight, he had realized that he had been running _from_ , not _to_ , and he had no idea where to go next. Heading back to the Desoto was out of the question; it was too close to where the soldiers had grabbed him in the first place. Spike wasn’t any too sure that the people he actually knew in Sunnydale would be willing to help him, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. He had to go somewhere, find some sort of shelter, both from the nasties that were bound to come out after nightfall, but also from the soldiers who would soon be hunting him.

           

Of the people he did know, only two he could think of were easy enough to locate, and far enough away from the campus for his comfort. And only one of those two might be able to deal with the transformation he had undergone. Spike swallowed his fear and took a cautious look around. Now it was just a matter of getting there unseen.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Giles looked over his translation again. A colleague from Oxford, whom he knew from his tenure at the British Museum had asked for his assistance with the document. Apparently, the Ancient Sumerian had been interspersed with what Giles had recognized as a demon language. The last few days with the manuscript had been some of the most challenging he’d had in a long time. Well, the most interesting if one disregarded the Native American spirits and Willow’s botched “my will be done” spell.

           

After the high school had blown up, he had certainly looked forward to his life of leisure, thinking that he would have time for all the things he’d never had time for in the past. And that was certainly true. The only problem was that Giles found himself bored by the end of the summer, and thinking quite nostalgically about the Sunnydale High library. In fact, at this point, he would be quite happy to find a brand new project to keep him busy and occupy his time.

           

A frantic knocking on the door interrupted his thoughts and caused him to look up in surprise. The fact that the door didn’t open immediately piqued his interest even more. Buffy and her friends typically knocked and then barged right in. When the pounding began again, Giles finally rose to answer it.

           

Of course, once he saw who was doing the knocking he wished he hadn’t bothered. “Spike.”

           

“You’ve got to let me in.” The vampire was obviously desperate, but that hardly inclined Giles toward acceding to his demand. There was very little in the world that would induce him to invite a vampire into his place of residence again.

           

But once Giles had gotten past _who_ was at his door, he started to notice other things, like the fact that Spike was wearing what looked to be hospital scrubs and was barefoot. Beyond that, it was broad daylight outside, the vampire had no protection against the sunlight, was not smoking, and didn’t seem that worried about his imminent combustion. Most telling of all, Spike’s hand had breached what should have been an invisible barrier, catching at Giles’ wrist in an imploring gesture. A hand that was warm and a little sweaty.

           

Giles didn’t reply to his demand, but instead reached out and grabbed the front of Spike’s blue smock, yanking him roughly inside. Spike didn’t even protest, instead slumping in relief as Giles shut the door. Giles could feel Spike’s heart pounding underneath his clenched fist, could see that he was drenched in sweat and was absolutely white and trembling with shock and fear. And in spite of everything that had happened in the past, Giles found himself feeling sympathy for the—well, man.

           

“Sit down before you fall down,” he advised, not unkindly. Spike nearly collapsed on his couch, still shaking, and Giles went to grab a blanket. “Here.”

           

Spike drew it across his shoulders slowly. Even inside the relative warmth of the flat, he was still freezing. He couldn’t help thinking that the soldiers were right on his heels, ready to come bursting through the door at any moment. And he couldn’t seem to make himself stop shaking, even if it did make him look like a ponce. “Drink.” Giles was holding a glass of water in front of him, and Spike took it gratefully, starting to gulp it down.

           

“Easy,” the older man said quietly. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

           

He obediently slowed, finishing the glass off. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely.

           

“How long has it been since you’ve had anything to eat?” Giles asked. Now that he’d had a chance to get a better look at the former vampire, Spike was much too thin, almost sickly looking, as though he were ready to pass out at any moment.

           

Spike shrugged, the movement hindered by the blanket he had wrapped tightly around himself. “If you’re asking about solids, dunno,” he replied. “Kept me on a liquid diet the whole time.”

           

“Who did?” Giles asked, knowing that the answer to his question would most likely help explain why Spike was sitting on his couch with a pulse in the first place.

           

Spike shook his head, the little color he had gained leeching out of his face, his shoulders hunching up just a little more. Giles recognized the look on his face from victims of trauma he’d come across in the past. “I must insist you tell me what happened, Spike.”

           

Spike looked up at him with a poor attempt at a smile. “Think I could get a drink first?”

           

Giles looked at him reprovingly. “Not on an empty stomach,” he replied, moving towards the small galley kitchen. “Why don’t you tell me what happened while I make us something to eat?” He knew from experience that it was sometimes easier to tell a difficult story if no one was looking at you.

           

“They came up on me from behind,” Spike began slowly. “Came back into town to—well, you know what I came back for.”

           

“Daresay I do,” Giles responded, slicing the bread for the sandwiches and beginning to brew some tea.

           

“Next thing I know I’m strapped to a table and some bloke’s slicing up my chest and pouring in green glowy stuff.” Spike drew in a deep, needed breath. “And what do you know, I’ve got a pulse.”

           

As Spike slowly related the rest of his stay with the soldier-boys, as he called them, Giles found himself not only feeling sorry for him, but almost liking him. It said something about the man that Spike was that he was able to pull himself together enough to keep up the charade of madness and then escape. And what had been done to him—Giles couldn’t be sorry that he wasn’t a vampire anymore, but the way this group had treated him _after_ he became human was frightening. It said something about their definition of “human” that gave him pause.

           

“And then I came here,” Spike finished, just as Giles set his sandwich and fortified cup of tea down in front of him. “Didn’t know where else to go.” He hesitated slightly, looking blindly at the meal in front of him. His soft voice and hunched shoulders were at odds with Giles’ long-held understanding of his character. “If I could get my car, I’ll be out of your way. It’s just, it was too close—”

           

“Don’t be an idiot,” Giles said firmly. “I’m hardly going to toss you out on the street, not when you’re so clearly done in. You can stay here tonight, and then we’ll decide on our next step tomorrow.”

           

Spike looked away, his jaw working, having a hard time understanding why someone he’d hurt in the past would be so willing to help him now. He couldn’t find the words to respond. “Eat,” Giles commanded gently. “Slowly, mind you, or you’ll make yourself sick, and drink your tea.”

           

Spike did as he was told, finding it easier than arguing or talking any more. Giles was right, of course, he was done in, and he didn’t think he could have gone anywhere even if Giles had kicked him out. He probably would have collapsed right on the doorstep and stayed there. He forced himself to eat slowly, though he wanted to bolt it. It was his first taste of real food since becoming human, and he didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so wonderful in his life. Spike threw Giles a grateful look after sipping at the tea, finding that he’d laced it with a generous portion of alcohol. And when he finished, he again looked to the other man for direction.

           

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” Giles suggested. “I’ll see what I can find in the way of clean clothing for you.” He showed Spike to the bathroom and handed him a towel. “I’ll just put the clothes inside the door.” Then he left, leaving Spike alone.

           

The former vampire glanced at the mirror, startled to see his own reflection there, both repulsed and attracted by the sight. Repulsed because he was looking into the face of a killer for the first time, into the eyes of what he had become. Attracted because it had been more than a century since he’d seen himself. He swallowed and stepped closer, noting the bleached blond of the hair and the dark roots, still curly and unmanageable as ever. He fingered the scar on his eyebrow, finding it less prominent than he had thought it would be. But his eyes—

           

Spike quickly turned away from his own reflection and stripped off the grimy cotton scrubs, dropping them in a heap on the floor and stepping into the shower. He used the shampoo and soap he found and began to scrub off the accumulated grime. And suddenly it all hit home.

           

He let the spray hit him in the face as he sobbed in guilt and anger and hurt. For the gaining of his soul, and the loss of his innocence. For the return of mortality and morality all at the same time, and the loss of his demon. He cried for all that he had done, and all that had been done to him. He cried for his blood-soaked past and the terrifying future. And it seemed that all the water in the world could not wash it away.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Giles hesitated outside the bathroom door. He could hear the sounds of crying under the sound of the running water, and the gut-wrenching sobs tore at his heart in a way he could not explain. Perhaps it was right that Spike should suffer for what he had done in the past, but Giles found it difficult to feel satisfaction. At some point, Spike had been a young man, quite possibly one who had simply been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, he was a young man once again, and very much alone in a world that must suddenly feel quite strange to him.

           

There was no reason to intrude on such an intensely private moment, Giles knew, especially after what he had been through. The humiliation, for lack of a better word, of being caged and stared at, had been very obvious in Spike’s story and tone of voice. Giles would not intrude on his privacy unless absolutely necessary. He left the clothing by the door and retreated back into the living room.

           

Spike joined him in a few minutes, dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans that Giles had found at the bottom of a drawer. The clothes were too big, but they were more substantial than what he had been wearing earlier. Giles politely ignored the younger man’s blood shot eyes and instead directed him up the stairs and to the bedroom.

 

“You can have my bed,” he said quietly. At Spike’s look of protest, he held up a hand. “You need it more than I do tonight,” he explained. “And I have some work that will keep me busy for some time. The couch will be quite adequate. Sleep as long as you like.”

           

In spite of Spike’s gruff, unembellished “Thanks,” Giles could hear the true gratitude in his tone, see it in his face. He understood that it had quite a bit to do with being treated like an actual human being for the first time in weeks.

           

Heading back downstairs, Giles pulled a book off his shelf, thinking about what might have been used to effect such a change from undead back to human again. The question was, of course, whether it was supernatural or scientific, and it seemed he would be spending some time in his books trying to figure it out. He needed to call Buffy as well, and let her know what had happened, tell her about this mysterious group of soldiers. But not tonight. Tonight he would research and let Spike sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough.


	2. The Burdens of Life

“…I don’t want to hear the things/you say you know all you’ve redeemed/’cause I can’t change what’s come before/build myself some better dreams/and cast off the fear that holds me here/so take a look outside yourself/and tell me what you see/I can’t believe/that you won’t see the change in me/give me strength to find the road that’s lost in me/give me time to heal and build myself a dream/give me eyes to see the world surrounding me/give me strength to be only me.” ~Over the Rhine, “Give Me Strength”

 

“So did Giles say what he wanted?” Willow asked as they headed towards the Watcher’s apartment.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Nope. He just said to get over there as soon as possible, and that he had something to show me. The message was pretty cryptic.”            

 

Giles’ message had also not said anything about Willow coming along, but Willow was still feeling guilty over her “my will be done” spell. After forgetting to come over and help Giles with some research he had been working on, she had accused him of not seeing, resulting in his blindness. Luckily, they had managed to reverse the effects of the spell before any more damage had been done, but Willow still shuddered every time she thought of what could have happened. Hence, her desire to help out in any way she possibly could, especially since she’d run out of chocolate chips.

           

“Well, it can’t be too serious then,” Willow said rather cheerfully. “Otherwise he would have told you it was an emergency.”

           

“Uh huh,” Buffy agreed, a little distracted.

           

Willow gave her friend a look. “Of course, I read in the Sunnydale paper that they’re predicting the end of the world next Tuesday.”

           

Buffy nodded. “Yeah.”

           

“A giant frog is supposed to land from Mars.”

           

“Right.”

           

“I’m planning on dropping out of school to join a commune in Tibet,” Willow offered.

           

“Great.” Buffy suddenly did a double take. “Huh?”

           

Willow smiled. “Okay, you’re a little distracted.”

           

Buffy gave her friend a sheepish smile. “I was just thinking. Obviously, it’s a lot of hard work.”

           

Willow looked hopeful. “Want to tell me about it? I’m all about listening to other people’s pain right now.”

           

“It’s not a big deal,” Buffy replied. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s about Riley.”

           

“Our cute, charming T.A. who likes you,” Willow stated. “I thought so. What’s the what?”

           

Buffy shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I like him, it’s just that he’s so—nice. Dependable. Stable.”

           

“And that’s a bad thing?” Willow asked.

           

“No,” Buffy said. “Not at all. In fact, that’s what I really need in my life. That’s the problem—my life. Willow, I’m not stable-girl. I’m not normal. I can’t be dependable, even if I want to be. And one of these days I have to tell Riley who—and what—I am.”

           

Willow tucked her arm through her friend’s. “Look, Buffy, Riley seems like a pretty decent guy. It might be a shock, but he’ll get over it. Xander and I were okay with it.”

           

“You and Xander are one of a kind,” Buffy replied with a rueful smile. “I don’t think you guys are the best comparisons. I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I know I’ve got to tell him soon, and I just don’t know how, or even what to say.” They were approaching Giles’ apartment, and Buffy looked over at Willow beseechingly. “Look, don’t say anything to Giles, okay? I know I’m supposed to be incognito girl now, but if it’s going to work with Riley, I’m going to have to tell him sooner or later.”

           

“My lips are sealed.”

           

Buffy knocked briefly on Giles’ door, and then walked in, Willow at her heels. “Giles?” she called. “Hello?”

           

“Ah, Buffy.” Giles came into the living room from the back of the apartment. “I’m glad you’re here.”

           

“So what’s up?” Buffy asked curiously. “Your message didn’t give a lot of info.”

           

Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it’s nothing life-threatening, but you may want to sit down.”

           

Buffy raised her eyebrows and then looked over at Willow, who looked similarly confused. “Okay. Now you’re scaring me.”

           

“It does sound kinda serious,” Willow agreed.

           

Giles took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, well, Spike showed up on my doorstep yesterday.”

           

“I hope this story has a dusty ending,” Buffy stated.

           

“Not quite,” Giles replied. “It seems that Spike is no longer a vampire.”

           

There was a long pause, and then Willow started speaking slowly. “If he’s not a vampire, what is he, Giles?”

           

“He’s human.”

           

“That’s impossible,” Buffy said flatly. “He was lying.”

           

Giles shot her a look that told her he believed his intelligence had been insulted. “One can hardly fake a pulse and heartbeat, Buffy. Nor could he fake entering my home without an invitation.”

           

If anything Buffy’s face grew more set. “I don’t care, Giles. If there was a way for vampires to become human—” She broke off, pain flashing across her face.

           

“I understand, Buffy, I really do,” Giles replied as gently as possible. “But that does not change the fact that Spike is now human.”

           

Buffy shook her head. “I want to see for myself.”

           

Giles hesitated and finally nodded. “He’s still sleeping, but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look in on him.”

           

“You let him sleep in your bed?” Buffy demanded, as Giles headed up the stairs.

           

Giles gave her another look. “I did. And it was my choice.” Willow noted that _that_ finished the discussion, but Buffy still had that stubborn look on her face. Willow had the sudden premonition, as she followed the both of them up the stairs, that Buffy was going to make things very hard on Spike.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike slowly woke to the feeling that someone was watching him. He’d had that same sensation constantly in the underground warren he’d been held in. The renewal of the feeling now sent a bolt of terror through him, causing him to think that perhaps the escape had only been a fantasy. Opening his eyes to see three faces peering down at him only confirmed his suspicions, and he was halfway across the room before it registered that Giles had only brought some guests up to visit.

           

Ashamed of having his fear witnessed, he pulled the comforter he’d carried with him closer around his naked body and snarled, “Warn a bloke, why don’t you?”

           

Giles was still looking a little surprised at his quick movement, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Of course. Forgive us. Buffy simply wanted to see your—new state for herself.”

           

“She’s seen it,” he said, and not very graciously. “You mind if I get dressed now?”

           

“Oh, right.” A slightly flustered Giles managed to herd both girls out of the room. Spike could see that Buffy looked downright pissed off, though why she was angry he certainly couldn’t have said. Willow, on the other hand, just looked a little embarrassed.

           

Spike waited until he was sure they were out of the room before untangling himself from the comforter. He was just grateful that he’d drug it with him on his mad flight out of the bed, rather than giving everyone an eyeful. He quickly made up the bed as best he could, just as he’d been careful to hang up his towel the day before. Spike might not have said as much to Giles, but he knew very well that the other man could have easily turned him out. He had certainly never given the Watcher a reason to help him in the past.

 

Glancing at the clock, he noticed with some surprise that it was early afternoon; he’d almost slept the clock around. He certainly felt a hell of a lot better than he had the day before. While Spike hadn’t thought he’d be able to get to sleep in the first place, it was true he hadn’t had a decent kip since before he’d been taken. He must have been even more exhausted than he’d thought.

           

He pulled on the borrowed clothing, fully aware that he probably looked a stupid git in the oversized pants and sweatshirt. Spike ran a hand over his hair and winced. It felt unruly, and there wasn’t much he could do about it before going downstairs.

           

Spike descended the stairs slowly, wondering what kind of reception he was going to get from a brassed off Slayer. He didn’t have to wait long. One look at him, and she started laughing hysterically.

           

“Oh, my goodness, Giles!” Buffy exclaimed. “Are you sure you didn’t pick him up at the pound?” She gave Spike an incredulous once-over before bursting into laughter again. “He looks completely pathetic.”

           

Now, Spike understood why Buffy might want to take some potshots at him. After all, the last time they’d seen one another, he’d done the same to her. That didn’t mean he had to like it, and he was torn as to how he was supposed to react. He couldn’t fight her physically anymore, and he recalled that a gentleman did not hit a woman under any circumstances anyway. Which meant he could say something rude in return, also something he wasn’t really comfortable with, or simply take it.

           

“Why on earth did you even take him in, Giles?” Buffy asked when she finally got herself under control, Spike getting more uncomfortable the longer her laughter continued. “He was worthless as a vampire, so it’s not like he’s going to do anybody any good now.”

           

Spike was beginning to think that leaving would be a good option, but Giles spoke up. “Buffy, I explained to you what happened. It seems the soldiers that did this to Spike were the same ones that nearly kept you from getting to Willow in time.”

           

All mirth left Buffy’s face, and she looked implacable. “Fine. He tells us what he knows and then we give him back. I don’t think the statute of limitations has run out on murder yet.”

           

Spike flinched as though he’d been hit. The Slayer’s words were a lot closer to the load of guilt he was carrying than he even cared to think about. “I don’t have to stay here for this,” he grated out, heading for the door. His sense of honor wouldn’t let him return the insult just then. Besides, he’d been out of it for a few weeks; he had no clue what to say that would hit as close to the bone as she just had. Spike wanted out, and he wanted out now. Away from Buffy’s accusing eyes and uncompromising face. He wasn’t sure he could take it.

           

“Spike, wait,” Giles called out after him. Giles turned and gave Buffy a disapproving look. “That’s quite enough, Buffy. Spike has information that could be very helpful. Beyond that, he’s been through quite enough already. We will not be handing him over to the soldiers, or anyone else for that matter.”

           

Spike’s hand was still on the door, and he was ready to leave. “Spike, you can’t go.”

           

“Why not?” he asked quietly. “Why the bloody hell not? You going to keep me here then?”

           

“Hardly,” Giles replied into the harsh silence that followed his question. “But think for a moment. You don’t have identification, money, or friends. If you walk out of here, and someone spots you, there will be nothing stopping those soldiers, whomever they are, from detaining you. You have no protection.”

           

Spike hesitated, and then his shoulders slumped in resignation. Giles was right. He did have a few things in his car, some clothes, a little cash, but not much. As a human, he needed things like identification, a driver’s license, and he had no way to get it on his own.

 

“Fine. But what are we supposed to do with him?” Buffy asked impatiently. “It’s not like any of us have time to baby-sit some ex-vampire.”

           

“I have taken responsibility for him,” Giles replied. “I will continue to do so. But we do need to work out what we’re going to do about the soldiers. Spike might be able to lead us to where they are.”

           

“I think we can handle things without the bleached pest, Giles,” Buffy protested.

           

Spike finally interrupted. “Standing right here.” Giles looked a bit ashamed of himself, but Buffy simply gave him a hard look, finally forcing Spike to look away. “Look, I’m going back upstairs. You lot finish deciding what you want to do, let me know.”

           

As one, they watched him go up the stairs, and then Giles looked back at Buffy, obviously disappointed. “Buffy! There was no need—”

           

Buffy replied to his lowered voice with a hissed whisper of her own. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what he is, but I haven’t, Giles. He’s a murderer.”

           

“He’s human,” Giles said, almost harshly. “Or shall we hunt Angel down as a murderer as well?”

           

Buffy opened her mouth to reply and found that she had no response. There was nothing she could say. Giles nodded. “I don’t expect kindness from you, but I do expect a level of civility at least. Now, Spike’s car is still somewhere about. I’d like you and Willow to fetch his things as he cannot risk being seen at the moment.”

           

“Fine,” Buffy nearly snarled. “Where is it?”

           

“I haven’t had the opportunity to ask him,” the older man replied, tiredly. “I suppose—”

           

“I’ll go,” Willow volunteered. The other two looked over at her in surprise. She had stayed relatively quiet through most of the debate. In truth, she hadn’t been sure what she should say to whom. If Spike wasn’t a vampire anymore, there really wasn’t a good reason to hate him. As Giles had pointed out, they were supposed to forgive Angel for everything he had done as Angelus. The same standard should apply to Spike, but more so, since he was human and couldn’t lose his soul. At the same time, Willow had the sneaking sensation that Buffy’s anger had a whole heck of a lot more to do with the fact that Spike _was_ human. And, to underline the unfairness that was life, a certain other vampire was not.

           

In any case, she well remembered what it was like to feel left out and picked on. That had pretty much been her entire junior high and high school career until Buffy came along. Willow had a soft spot for the outsiders. “I don’t mind,” she stated. “It’s not like he’s going to bite me or anything.”

           

Willow climbed the stairs, leaving a strained silence behind her. She had the feeling that Buffy was going to find Giles’ acceptance of the former vampire difficult to swallow. She knocked hesitantly at the open door. “Hey.”

           

Spike glanced back at her. “Hey.”

           

Willow could tell from the look on his face that he was trying not to cry. She’d been there too. “Giles wants Buffy and me to get your stuff from your car. We just need to know where it is.”

           

“Oh.” There was a long pause, and then he said very softly, “I shouldn’t be here.”

           

Willow took a timid step forward, and then seemed to make up her mind, settling down on the bed next to him. “Why not?”

           

“Done enough damage haven’t I?” he asked. “I should just go.”

           

“Where?”

           

“Dunno. I’ve got a little money. Enough to get me out of this town.”

           

“And then what?” she asked reasonably. At his shrug, Willow said quietly, “Don’t listen to Buffy. She’s still kind of pissed at you for, you know, everything. But she’ll get over it.”

           

Spike laughed humorlessly. “Right. Because people usually get over you trying to kill them.”

           

“She got over Angel trying to kill her.” Willow looked at him earnestly. “I’m sorry.”

           

“For what?” he asked, surprised.

           

She smiled a little. “Well, not that you’re not a vampire, because in my book, that’s a good thing. But I’m sorry it’s hard for you.”

           

Spike blinked at her owlishly, and for a minute, Willow really thought he might cry. Finally, he simply shook his head and smiled at her. And while Willow wasn’t feeling real crazy about guys at the moment, the sweetness of the expression nearly melted her. “Ta, Red. And I’m sorry. For kidnapping you and all.”

           

“Consider it forgotten,” she replied. “So, your car?”

 

~~~~~ 

 

She and Buffy walked towards the car in silence. Spike’s directions made his reasons for coming back to Sunnydale fairly clear. Just the fact that the Desoto was so close to the campus hadn’t endeared him to the Slayer. Willow, on the other hand, looked at it a bit more philosophically. After all, he’d parked the car while he’d still been a vampire.

           

Buffy, for her part, was completely and utterly pissed off. She was angry that Giles had even taken Spike in, human or not, in trouble or not. She was angry that Spike was human. She was angry she couldn’t stake him, because that little Gem of Amara debacle still made her hot. Hell, she was angry she couldn’t even beat him to a pulp. Spike still got on her last nerve, even with a heartbeat, and now she couldn’t do anything about it.

           

There was a part of her that recognized her anger as irrational, and wondered if it wasn’t misplaced, but Buffy was enjoying being mad too much to seriously question it. “There it is,” she said as they neared the vehicle. “I can’t believe I’m fetching Spike’s stuff for him.”

           

“Well, Giles did have a point,” Willow said reasonably. “Spike probably would feel better if he had his own things.”

           

They both stared at the car doubtfully, neither one really wanting to delve into the depths of either the trunk or the backseat. Buffy finally sighed and opened the driver’s side door, rooting around under the floor mat for the keys. They were right where Spike said he’d left them. “Well, he’s lucky the cops didn’t tow it,” she muttered. “Because I sure wouldn’t have gotten it out of the impound for him.”

           

Buffy glanced back at the trunk and then at the keys in her hand. “In fact,” she said slowly. “It would be really stupid to leave it here. It might get towed.”

           

Willow’s eyes widened slightly. Buffy and cars were not a good mixture. Buffy and cars were a lot like oil and water. “Buffy—”

           

“I think we should drive it back to Giles’,” she announced.

           

Willow opened her mouth to argue and then saw the look on her friend’s face. Buffy had her “resolve face” on, which meant arguments would get her nowhere. “All right,” she agreed doubtfully. “But just remember. You break it, you buy it.”

           

Thankfully, Buffy managed to get the car to Giles’ house and park it without any major mishaps. Though Willow thought there might be a few new scratches from the tree they’d sideswiped. At least the tree didn’t require their insurance information, since they didn’t have any.

           

Both Giles and Spike looked up at them as they entered, obviously surprised that they were empty handed, waiting for an explanation. Buffy didn’t bother to offer any, flopping down on the couch with a sullen look on her face. “Are we done?” she asked. “Because I’m supposed to be having a hot date tonight that I need to get ready for.”

           

“Oh, and the car’s across the street,” Willow added quickly, before either of the men could ask.

           

Spike’s mouth opened in what would have most likely been a vociferous protest, but whatever he saw on Buffy’s face caused it to snap shut again just as quickly. “Excuse me,” he muttered, getting up and moving to the front door.

           

Buffy didn’t even bother looking at him. Her idea of civility stretched about as far as ignoring him, and that was it. Willow offered a friendly smile. “Do you need any help?”

           

Spike gave her a half-smile and a quick shake of the head before disappearing out the door. Willow and Giles exchanged a look, and he took his glasses off to clean them. “Buffy, if you feel you must leave, you are certainly free to go.”

           

“Okay,” Buffy said cheerfully, hopping to her feet. “See ya.” Before Giles could say anything else or change his mind she was at the door, opening it to find Spike in front of her. Buffy gave him a hard look and then pushed past him, seemingly not noticing that she almost bowled him over.

           

Willow followed at her heels, and gave Spike a pat on the arm on her way past. “See ya.” 

 

Spike watched the girls go wordlessly. He hadn’t expected Buffy to be overjoyed at his transformation, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to be that cruel either. She had looked at him as though he were something nasty on the bottom of her shoe. “Spike?”

           

He looked back over at Giles, a threadbare black duffel bag slung across one shoulder. “I should change.”

           

Spike let himself fall into something of a daze after that. There really wasn’t anywhere he could go safely, and Giles pretty much just let him be. Other than the first night, he slept on the couch, and didn’t move far from it. It was simply easier to let himself drift. The sensations, the feelings, associated with becoming human were too overwhelming for him to actively deal with. And while Giles’ flat was a nice enough place, it was still a prison. There just didn’t seem to be much of a reason to fight it, to protest his descent into a deepening depression.

           

Giles, for his part, was beginning to get concerned. Spike was spending most of his time in front of the television, though he wasn’t really focusing on it. Actually, Spike really wasn’t focusing on much of anything. The few times he opened a book, he stared at the pages, unseeing, until he finally closed it. He showed little interest in the goings on of the group, and had a tendency to disappear any time anyone but Giles was around.

           

After a few days of Spike showing no sign of improvement and of increasing apathy, Giles decided to take matters into his own hands. Spike did have spare clothing, but the boots the soldiers had taken were the only ones he’d had. Without shoes, there weren’t a lot of places he could go, even if it had been safe for him to do so.

           

On the fifth day of Spike’s stay, the older man thrust a box in front of Spike as he sat on the couch, staring off into space. “Here.”

           

Spike seemed to rouse slightly to stare at him. “What is it?”

           

“Open it,” Giles replied, watching as Spike took the box and slowly pulled off the lid, blinking several times in confusion.

           

“What’s this?” Spike finally asked, staring stupidly at the pair of black boots.

           

Giles sat down in the chair beside the couch. “I have to go to the market,” he stated. “Since you’re staying here and eating my food, I expect your assistance.” He watched as Spike reached out a tentative hand to touch the boots as though they might suddenly disappear. Giles wasn’t sure what to say, or do, for that matter. Even years of spending time with Buffy hadn’t made him what some might call “emotionally available.” He was actually quite content with his reserved nature, and had no reason to change, except for occasions such as this, where he wanted to be able to say the right thing, and had no idea what it might be.

           

“Spike,” he began, tentatively. “I know this is a difficult transition for you, but you mustn’t allow it to—to keep you from—from living.”

           

Spike stared at him, the despair in his eyes a tangible thing. “How?”

           

“I don’t know,” Giles confessed. “But I believe the first step is getting out of the house.”

           

A little more energy came in to Spike’s face. “Thought you said it was too dangerous to be out.”

           

“Yes, well, not alone. These soldiers seem to want to stay hidden, however, and I doubt they want to call attention to themselves. If you’re with someone, I don’t think they’ll take any action against you.” Giles watched him, feeling a tremendous sense of compassion for the young man. “So will you go?”

           

“Didn’t think I had the option,” Spike replied, a hint of humor in his voice and face.

           

Giles looked away. “No, well, you don’t. I was merely being polite. So put your shoes on and let’s go.”

 

~~~~~

 

Giles was beginning to regret forcing Spike to come to the store with him. While he didn’t make any arguments, or even really complain too much about having to come, Spike refused to make a decision, about anything. When asked about his preferences as to one thing over another, he would simply shrug and mutter, “Dunno.” It was driving Giles crazy. He hated shopping for groceries, and had been hoping that Spike could at least give him some ideas for what they were supposed to eat.

           

Finally, he stopped the cart in the middle of the aisle and glared at him. “Could you make a decision?” he demanded.

           

Spike looked at him, surprised. “Huh?”

           

“I asked you to help me,” Giles reminded him. “You’re not helping.”

           

Spike finally shrugged and ran a hand through two-toned hair. “Been telling you,” he explained. “Dunno what I like anymore. Everything tastes different now. I still liked human food before, but—it’s different.”

           

Giles stared at him and then sighed. Of course it would be different for him. He had no idea why he hadn’t even thought about it up to this point. “Is there anything you know you don’t like, then?” he asked.

           

Spike gave him a wry look. “After that crap they were feeding me, don’t think there’s anything I don’t like, so long as I can chew on it.”

           

“Well, let’s look at the meat selection then,” Giles suggested.

           

He was trying to decide between beef and chicken when a voice called to him. “Mr. Giles?”

           

Giles turned to see Joyce Summers smiling at him. “Mrs. Summers. How—good to see you.” The awkwardness from the band candy episode had yet to completely disappear from their relationship.

           

“Likewise,” she replied, smiling warmly. “It’s been a while. I don’t think I’ve seen you since Buffy’s graduation.”

           

Giles nodded quickly. “No, indeed. Buffy tells me you’ve been traveling quite a bit.”

           

“For the gallery,” Joyce explained with a slight shrug of the shoulders. A “what can you do?” movement. “It keeps me busy.”

           

There was a moment of awkward silence as they both considered what to say next and came up blank. Finally, Giles seized upon the only distraction available and looked over at Spike, who was looking just as uncomfortable. “Ah, I believe you know Spike.”

           

Spike looked up in what could only be described as alarm as Giles spoke his name. Joyce, on the other hand, looked both surprised and mildly pleased. Not a reaction the older man might have expected. “Of course,” Joyce said, real pleasure on her face. “How are you?”

           

Spike shrugged a bit, not knowing how exactly to reply to that question. “Alright.” He fell silent and then seemed to recall his manners. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Summers.”

           

Joyce looked slightly confused, glancing over at Giles to find out what was going on. “Spike has been through something of a transformation,” he explained briefly.

           

“What he’s not saying is I have a heartbeat now,” Spike said bluntly, though he spoke in a low voice.

           

“Oh.” Joyce frowned. “I didn’t think that was possible,” she ventured.

           

Spike gave her a disgruntled look. “It’s not, but there you are.”

           

Giles was interested. Other than the blind panic that he had shown when arriving on his doorstep, this was the most interactive Spike had been in days. He watched as Joyce and Spike’s eyes met, and a kind of unspoken communication went on. There seemed to be a kind of understanding between the two of them. “Well, if you need anything, I still have those little marshmallows you like,” Joyce said.

           

Spike ducked his head slightly, and Giles could see a faint tinge of pink on his ears and at the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

           

“Anytime,” she replied, and then looked back over at Giles. There was another moment of unspoken communication, this time without any edge of embarrassment. They had taken themselves out of the equation for the moment. “I should finish my shopping,” she said. “You two have a good day.”

           

“You too,” Giles replied, while Spike stood by silently. He watched her walk away and then glanced over at Spike, who was still staring at the tiled floor as though it fascinated him. “Come, Spike. We have our own shopping to finish.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Later that night, Spike sat out in the courtyard of Giles’ flat, looking up at the stars. It had been decidedly odd to run into Buffy’s mother earlier, but nice. Nice, because she had treated him no differently than she always had, with a sort of warm, but puzzled, consideration. Save for the one occasion when she’d hit him over the head with the ax, of course. Then again, he’d deserved that.

           

Spike was having a hard time figuring out who or what he was supposed to be now. That was the real problem, in the end. Spike, the vampire, had been all about the hunt, the action, the fight, and that world was closed to him now, unless he wanted to get himself killed. And he was fairly certain he wasn’t William again either. He remembered his former human self with an objectivity, and a tinge of disdain, that would be impossible if there weren’t some distance there.

           

So he wasn’t Spike, and he wasn’t William. He remembered being a vampire with longing, and yet he was repulsed by the atrocities he had committed. He remembered being a human with real horror, but he wasn’t ready to go out and get himself killed again. There was a part of him that desired the thrill of the hunt, when the moon was new and the night black. And yet he had found he loved the warmth of the sun on his skin, catnapping in the patch of light that fell on the couch at midday.

           

Spike looked down at his hand, wondering for the hundredth time what it was that made a man, a man, and a vampire, a vampire. Because both everything and nothing had changed, and he had no idea what to do about it.


	3. Silent Nights

“I will dedicate and sacrifice my everything for just a second’s worth of how my story’s ending. And I wish I could know if the directions that I take and all the choices that I make won’t end up all for nothing. Show me what it’s for, make me understand it. I’ve been crawling in the dark looking for the answer. Is there something more than what I’ve been handed? I’ve been crawling in the dark looking for the answer.” ~Hoobastank, “Crawling in the Dark”

 

Giles was in a quandary. He had a friend coming in from out of town, and there really was no way he could have both Spike and Olivia stay at his flat at the same time. For one thing, the activities he had planned held no room for a third player. At all. For another, it would just be terribly awkward, and Giles had no desire for an awkward weekend when he really wanted something relaxing.

           

On the other hand, Spike’s mental state was still rather fragile, and kicking him out, even for a short time, would not be conducive to his stability. This meant he both needed to make plans to find Spike a place to stay and had to break the news to him gently. The girls’ dorm was out of the question for rather obvious reasons, and that left Xander.

           

Xander wanted none of it. “Giles!” he protested in a low whisper, casting glances over at Spike who was sitting next to Willow on the couch. “There’s no way.”

           

“Xander, I’m sorry to have to ask, but there’s no one else. My friend will be here the day after tomorrow, and I can’t very well just toss Spike out into the street.”

           

Xander grimaced. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Spike. Well, he hadn’t liked Spike-the-vampire, of course, but this Spike was different. Quieter, for one thing, and a lot more skittish. Xander thought that today was the first time Spike hadn’t disappeared immediately into another part of the apartment, or outside, as soon as any of the gang made an appearance. And the only reason he hadn’t left abruptly today was that Willow had made a point of asking him to stay.

           

“Look, Giles, I’d love to help you out, but Anya and I already made plans.” He lowered his voice even further. “This is the first girl who’s actually wanted to spend time with me since Cordelia. Don’t ask me to screw things up with her.”

           

Giles blinked at Xander, finally sighing. Since he was essentially trying to kick Spike out for the same reasons Xander wouldn’t allow him to stay, he couldn’t really argue. “Fine, but—”

           

“I can stay in my car.” Giles looked around. Spike was standing right behind him with a tight expression on his face. Giles didn’t think he was precisely angry, but he was— “I can take care of myself.” Proud, that was it. Spike was proud. And unwilling to be a burden.

           

Willow was next to him, and she looked from one to another, sensing the tension and wanting to defuse it. “What’s going on, Giles?”

           

“I have a friend coming in from out of town,” he admitted reluctantly, not willing to throw his personal life open to the public. “She will be staying with me for a few days, and—”

           

“Is she an orgasm friend?” Anya asked cheerfully.

           

Giles heard a snort of laughter, swiftly stifled, from Spike. Giles didn’t know whether to be put out or grateful. It was the first time he’d heard Spike laugh at all. “Yes, I suppose one might call her that,” he replied stiffly. “In any case, Spike needs another place to stay for a few days.”

 

“I told you, I’ll stay in my car,” Spike said. He was furious that everyone seemed to think him incapable of making any kind of decisions for himself. Giles meant well, but Spike was beginning to feel a little caged in.

           

Willow’s face brightened. “Oh, why doesn’t he stay at Buffy’s house?”

           

“Huh?”

 

“What?”

           

Both Buffy and Spike spoke simultaneously. Buffy, to this point, had been studiously, and obviously, ignoring Spike’s existence. She shot Spike a glare, and then looked over at Willow. “At my house?”

           

Willow looked both surprised and a little angry. “Why not? Your mom’s going out of town tomorrow. She already called and asked if we would check on things a couple times while she’s on her trip. If Spike stays there, it’ll be like having a house sitter. Everybody wins.”

           

Buffy looked like she was about to protest again, but Giles cut her off. “I think that’s a brilliant idea, Willow,” he said firmly. “I doubt Joyce would have a problem with Spike looking after her house while she’s out of town. Buffy, why don’t you call her and ask?” When Buffy stared at him sullenly, Giles pulled his glasses off and started to clean them again. “Or perhaps I should be the one to call.”

           

“I’ll do it,” she replied, shooting a nasty look at Spike as she went over to the phone.

           

Willow could see Spike’s jaw clenching, and she laid a gentle hand on his arm, even as Giles tried to convince him that staying in his car would be a very bad idea. “You would be vulnerable,” the older man reminded him. “Not just to the soldiers, but what if the police spotted you? With no identification—”

           

“Yeah, I know. I’d be in deep shit.” Willow’s eyebrows went straight up. That was the first time she’d heard Spike swear. The changes in his character were obvious, and overwhelming, but there seemed to be a little of the vampire left after all.

           

“Spike—”

           

“Bugger off,” he growled, jerking his arm away from Willow’s restraining hand and stomping towards the front door. Giles, Xander and Willow shared a look before Buffy came back to join them.

           

“Where’d the bleached wonder go?” she asked. “I’m supposed to tell him that mom would be happy to have him stay.” The Slayer’s tone was an unsubtle mix of the nasty and sarcastic, and Willow was glad that Spike had left.

           

“He went outside,” she said. “I’ll go let him know.” She sighed. Ever the peacemaker.

           

Spike was sitting on the edge of the flowerbed, wrists resting on his knees, staring down at the ground. “Buffy’s mom said she’d be happy to have you stay there.”

           

“Great.” There was a long silence, and he said quietly. “I _can_ bloody well take care of myself, you know. Been doing it for well over a hundred years now. Not like I’m suddenly incompetent.”

           

Willow came to sit down next to him, thinking it must be pretty sucky to suddenly have your entire way of life uprooted and pulled out from under you. “It’s different now,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help.”

           

“The way she—you all look at me, like I—” he stopped, having already given away too much.

           

“Buffy’s just mad.”

           

He looked over at her with blue eyes that swirled with a heady mix of emotions. Anger, fear, hurt, loneliness. “I didn’t expect her to suddenly be my mate, not with everything I’ve done, but what’s she so brassed off about now?” Spike asked, honestly bewildered.

           

“Because you’re human,” Willow said quietly, having already figured it out for herself. “You’re human—and Angel’s not.”

 

Spike’s mouth opened in surprise and he frowned. “I’d switch places with that poof in a minute,” he protested. “Wasn’t like I asked for this!”

           

Willow shrugged. “Think about it, Spike. The vampire she loves is still a vampire, and she can’t be with him. The vampire she hated… It might not be logical, but that’s how it is.”

           

“She tell you that?” he asked.

           

Willow gave him a wry smile. “I’ve been Buffy’s friend for a long time. I didn’t need to ask.”

           

“’course.” He looked up as Buffy stalked outside.

 

“Mom said she wants you to come over tonight,” she announced. “She wants to make sure you know where everything is.” Buffy’s tone clearly said that she didn’t really care if Spike knew where everything was, or if he wound up sleeping on the street and starving to death.

 

“When do you want to leave?” he asked as evenly as he could manage. Buffy merely lifted an eyebrow and tapped the toe of her boot on the ground in reply. “Right,” he muttered. “Let me get my things together.”

           

Willow declined to ride with them, already feeling as though she was in a precarious position. Buffy was her best friend and her roommate. Spike was someone she was rapidly coming to think of as a friend. Or, at least he was someone she wouldn’t mind having as a friend. She’d always had a thing for the underdog. But riding in the backseat of his car with the tension between them as thick as it was—no thanks.

           

Spike drove them both to the Summers’ residence, conscientiously following all the traffic laws. He had no desire to get pulled over, and no reason to try and impress the Slayer with his driving abilities. Actually, he had the sinking feeling that _nothing_ he could do would impress her at this point.

           

Pulling up in front of the house and parking the Desoto in the street, he put the car in park. Buffy was reaching for the door handle when his voice stopped her. “Look, Sl—Buffy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you in the past.”

           

Buffy turned to look at him, but her face gave nothing away, hazel eyes cool. “Fine, Spike. You’re sorry.”

           

The irritation he had been feeling for days suddenly spilled over. “Bloody hell!” he burst out. “I get that you have reasons to hate me, and most of them are pretty good. But I’m not a vampire anymore! Don’t know who I am, but I’m not that Spike! So what’s your problem? What have I done that’s so royally pissed you off that you’re looking at me like I’m dirt under your shoe?”

           

Her face didn’t change; if anything it only became harder. Spike hadn’t thought that was even possible. Her voice, when she spoke, was sharp enough to cut glass. “Have you ever thought that you don’t have to _do_ anything, Spike? That it’s who you are? It doesn’t matter if you’re vampire or human. You’re beneath me.”

           

Spike sat frozen. He was suddenly back in a Victorian drawing room, baring his soul to a heartless young woman. Hearing the laughter of the others as a dim backdrop to her words. For one brief, ghastly moment, he was William the Bloody Awful Poet again. Looking up through eyes that threatened to overflow, he could see Buffy through the clear patch in the windshield, impatiently tapping the toe of her boot. Spike took a deep breath and brought himself back under control. If there was one thing he’d learned in over a century of living—or unliving—you never let ‘em see you cry.

           

Buffy stayed long enough to see him in the door, kiss Joyce on the cheek, and say hello and good-bye in the same breath. Needless to say, she didn’t say anything at all to Spike. He stayed standing uneasily in the entryway, still not quite sure what to do with himself.

           

“Come in, Spike,” Joyce said warmly, noticing his discomfort. “I’ve cleared out the spare room for you a bit. There’s not a lot of space, but at least the bed’s free.”

           

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “Appreciate you letting me stay here on such short notice.” Spike remembered that he was supposed to be polite most of the time, but he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. After all, it was a skill he hadn’t needed for well over a century.

           

Joyce smiled in reply, laying a friendly hand on his arm. “Nonsense. I’ll be happy to know someone’s looking after things while I’m out of town. I usually ask Buffy to check on the house occasionally while I’m gone, but she’s so busy, you know.”

           

“Yeah,” Spike replied, not really sure what to say to that. Buffy didn’t let him in on her plans or her life.

           

“Well, why don’t I show you where things are?” she suggested. “I know you’ve been to the house before, but I don’t think you’ve ever gotten the full tour.”

           

Spike nodded and then proceeded to follow her around the house. She showed him where to put his bag, and he found himself grateful that he wasn’t staying in Buffy’s old room. The way things stood between the two of them, he had the feeling he would find himself on the pointy end of a stake if he made so bold as to sleep in her bed. Human or not.

           

Once she had shown him the house, Joyce led him back into the kitchen. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

           

Spike hesitated. He hadn’t eaten, it was past seven, and he was starving. On the other hand, he really didn’t want to be a burden, so he said he was fine. Of course, his stomach chose just that moment to growl rather loudly, yet another body function he was still trying to get used to.

           

“I’ll take that as a no,” Joyce said with something of a smile.

           

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Spike protested.

           

Joyce raised her eyebrows. “You’re hardly a bother. Besides, I usually eat alone. It will be nice to have company for once. I was hoping that Buffy might stay, but I know she had to run off.”

           

Spike didn’t tell her that it was on his account her daughter had no desire to stay. There wasn’t much of a point, and he didn’t want to sound as though he was feeling sorry for himself, even if perhaps he was. Moreover, he could hear the loneliness in her voice, and it was the same note he’d heard in Giles’ words every so often, talking about the Slayer and her friends. Neither of the adults were an integral part of things anymore. And while that independence was a good thing, it also changed the dynamics of everyday life in a way that was sometimes painful for those left behind.

           

“It’ll be nice to eat someone else’s cooking,” he said, striving for the chitchat he seemed to have so much trouble with now. “Giles does his best, but he’s no chef.”

           

She smiled at him. “Well, I’m sure he likes the company as much as I do.”

           

Spike shrugged. “Bit hard for him to toss me out when I turned up at his door like a stray,” he replied dismissively. “He just doesn’t know what else to do with me at this point, I guess.”

           

Joyce looked at him sharply, her hazel eyes catching what others might miss: the lines on his face that hadn’t been there before, the dark circles under his eyes, the set of his jaw that spoke of a perpetual tension. It was rather obvious to her that Spike was desperately unhappy, even as he tried to shrug it off. “Mmm,” was her rather noncommittal reply, knowing when to leave well enough alone. “How does pasta sound?” she asked.

           

It was an easy dinner to put together. Joyce cooked and kept the topics light, refusing to let Spike help. She had the feeling that what he really needed was a little mothering, and so she did exactly that. Telling him about the gallery, asking about Giles and the others, finally setting the plate in front of him as he sat at the kitchen island. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said quietly, his emotions again threatening to overwhelm him.

           

“I wanted to,” was all Joyce said. She waited until he was more than halfway done with his meal before asking the question. In some ways, Spike was easier to deal with than Buffy. Her daughter had always been a little alien to her, while this man was an open book.

           

“Could I ask you a question?”

           

The tone was innocent, and Spike had been lulled into complacency by the good food and company. “Sure,” he replied around a mouthful of pasta. “This is bloody brilliant, by the way.”

           

“Thanks,” she answered, amused by his boyish enthusiasm. “What’s your name?”

           

Spike looked up in surprise. “You know my name.”

           

“Not your real name.”

           

There was a long moment of silence, before Spike finally asked suspiciously, “Why?”

           

“Because I’d like to know,” Joyce said easily. “And somehow I have the feeling that Spike wasn’t the name your mother gave you.”

           

Spike frowned. It certainly wasn’t, and his mother had probably spun in her grave—“You look like her, sometimes,” he whispered.

           

“Who do I look like, Spike?” Joyce asked.

           

Blue eyes never leaving her face, he shook his head. “William. That’s what she called me. Sometimes, when the light—you look like her a bit.”

           

“What happened to her?” Joyce wondered if the key to the man in front of her wasn’t the answer to that question.

           

Anguish and guilt raged in Spike’s face, but he didn’t say anything. Joyce hesitated, and then changed tacks. “How old were you?”

           

“Twenty-five, I think,” he murmured. “No, not quite that. It was a couple months shy of my birthday when—”

           

“What happened?”

           

He shrugged, trying to shrug off the emotions that seemed to plague him at the same time. Spike had never been one to hide his feelings, but it was different now. There were too many things that could give him away. It was too hard to keep a poker face. “Went to a party,” he finally said. “There was a girl there. Thought I was in love with her, but she didn’t feel the same way. Told me so.” The scars were still visible, shining through his eyes in almost tangible pain. “Ran out crying like a bloody prat. Dru found me. That’s all.”

           

“What was it like?” When his gaze seemed to shutter over, Joyce reached out to touch his hand. “William. Tell me, please. Buffy never lets me in, and I want to know a little at least. I’ve never had the chance to ask before.” Spike paused again, and this time his face flushed a little with embarrassment. “Trust me, I think I’ve probably heard it all.”

           

He gave a little laugh that sounded more like a snort, and replied, “It’s like the best sex you’ve ever had. Like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, all beautiful and grand. Feels so good and hurts so bad all at the same time, yeah?” When Joyce nodded, he continued, the words rolling off his tongue. It felt so good just to say it, to be able to speak what had never been spoken of to someone who would not be rushing off to put it in a little book somewhere. As grateful as he was to Giles, Spike sometimes thought that he was a lot like a fine specimen, an example of when the impossible happens and a vampire becomes human.

           

“They buried me,” he said, fingers playing absently with his fork. “Dug myself up to find Dru waiting for me. We went back to my house for clothes and such.” Spike took a deep, necessary breath. “Mum—mum was ill. Consumption they called it back then, but she was dying.”

           

“You killed her.” It was a statement of fact, not a question or an accusation. Joyce could see the truth written all over his expressive face.

           

“I loved her.” It was said with such simplicity, Joyce could feel tears in her own eyes. “I felt so bloody good. Like I was on top of the world, never had to worry about one of those pathetic sods who were always—” Spike stopped again, not wanting to reveal too much. “Wanted her to be with me always, so I turned her. And then she wasn’t my mum anymore.”

           

There was more to the story, but Joyce didn’t push, not when she could see Spike struggling desperately for control. “Will you be okay?”

           

“Sure. ‘course I will,” he said, brushing off her question with a hint of his old arrogance.

           

“She must have loved you so very much,” Joyce whispered, thinking that from his omissions that he must have been an only child, and that it had just been he and his mother. Thinking about how much she loved Buffy, with the kind of love only a mother knows for her sole child. Seeing in Spike’s eyes how very much he had loved her.

           

Joyce’s unequivocal statement unwittingly loosed the dam. The emotions he had been trying so hard to hold back for days burst free, first as a slow trickle as the tears began to roll down his face, then he broke down as the floodgates opened. The sobs that tore from his chest were almost frightening in their intensity. “I don’t think I can do this,” he gasped. “I don’t—I can’t.” He felt Joyce’s arms come around him as she drew him to her chest, holding and rocking him until he calmed.

           

When he finally pulled back, it was both with reluctance and a sense of shame; reluctance because it had felt so good to be held like that, shame because he felt weak for wanting it. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I got you a bit damp.”

           

“Don’t be sorry,” Joyce said with a smile, smoothing back an errant curl from his forehead. “I never get a chance to mother anyone anymore. It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

           

Spike rewarded her attempt at humor with a watery smile. “Thanks, mum.”

           

The name was meant as a joke, but it held a reality behind it that was nothing to laugh at. “Will you really be okay?” she asked, concern overshadowing the humor. “Because I can still cancel my trip.”

           

Spike stared at her. “You’d do that for me?”

           

“Of course,” she replied, no hesitation in her voice. “I’d worry about you too much.”

           

He shook his head. “I’ll be alright. Just knowing you’d stay—” The smile he gave her this time was more successful, and he looked down at his plate, still half-full of pasta. “I made your dinner get cold.”

           

“I’ll just stick it in the microwave for a minute,” Joyce replied. They ate the rest of the meal in silence, both of them caught up in their own thoughts. Joyce was by no means certain that Spike was okay. Even when he’d been here before, crying over his hot chocolate for Drusilla, he had not seemed so broken.

           

Joyce had always had a fondness for the lost ones. She had genuinely liked Faith, would have loved to have been able to save her. But Faith had, in many ways, been too far gone for her to reach. Plus, there were other events that had conspired to send Faith off the deep end. Spike seemed like her: all hard edges, but with a deep vulnerability that shone out of blue eyes like a Siren’s call.

           

Spike, for his part, was utterly embarrassed at having cried on Joyce’s shoulder. But he had to admit to feeling better. Somehow, crying by oneself and crying in the company of someone who cared were entirely different. Striving for something to say that wouldn’t embarrass him further, he asked, “So what kind of pieces do you have at the gallery now?”

           

The tension dissipated after that as Joyce moved on to safer subjects and Spike helped her clean up. “Would you like some hot cocoa?” she asked once the dishes had all been dried and put away.

           

Spike’s face lit up in a slow genuine smile. “Yeah, that would be right nice.”

 

~~~~~ 

 

Joyce was gone by the time Spike crawled out of bed that morning. She’d left a note on the counter about where he could find the food in the freezer and pantry, along with plant-watering directions. At the end, she’d added a little note. _“You hang in there, William. Things seem hard right now, but they always get easier with time. Just remember, if you ever need to talk, I’ll be here to listen.”_

           

He smiled reflectively. Between Joyce and Willow, he felt almost welcome in the world of the living. The first day he spent inside the house, as per Giles’ instructions. There were only so many hours of day-time TV he could take now that his brain seemed to be functioning again. _Passions_ was all well and good, but _Jerry Springer_ got old real quick. His own life was insane enough without adding the insanity of stupid people.

           

Spike finally picked up one of Joyce’s paperbacks, losing himself for the rest of the day in Middle Earth. He had no idea why Buffy’s mother would have J.R.R. Tolkien’s classics, but it was a nice read for him. Stopping only for a late dinner, he made it most of the way through the first book in the trilogy before he was too tired to keep his eyes open.

           

That night he dreamed about orcs who chased him with scalpels and causing havoc among hobbits.

           

It was noon the next day before he noticed that something strange was going on. He had gone into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and stubbed his toe. But when he opened his mouth to swear bloody blue murder, nothing came out. Spike frowned and tried again, this time not to curse but just to say anything at all. And still nothing came out.

           

There was only one place to go—again. While he wasn’t supposed to leave the house, he really wanted to know what was going on, and if anyone did, Giles and the gang would. Not that he wanted to see Buffy again.

           

With the Desoto, he managed to get himself back to Giles’ place in just a few minutes. He was a bit surprised when the door opened and Giles gripped his shoulder, obviously relieved to see him. In fact, when he walked inside, Xander and Anya actually waved, and Willow came and gave him a hug. Spike met Buffy’s eyes for a long moment, and she was the one to look away first.

           

It was odd to have the silence enforced like that, to not have a choice about speaking. Spike noticed that everyone touched more, that they reached for contact in different ways than speech. He also would have felt more alone than ever if Willow hadn’t kept shooting him small, supportive glances, occasionally touching his arm when she passed.

           

They spent the day trying to discover what it was that had stolen the voices of Sunnydale, for it had affected the entire town. There was something intensely frightening about the whole thing, and though he wasn’t very excited about it, Spike went back to the Summers’ residence that night. He had promised Joyce that he would look after things, and a man kept his promises. That, at least, he could remember.

           

The front-page news sent him straight back over to Giles’ the next morning however, and he was in the college auditorium when the ex-librarian gave his presentation. When they all dispersed, waiting for the Slayer to save the day as usual, Spike found himself not wanting to be alone again. Giles would be with Olivia, of course, and Xander and Anya were well on their way to making up after their little argument. Buffy was off to try and get their voices back, and he was left to fend for himself.

           

Which was why he was knocking rather sheepishly on Willow’s door about five minutes after she got inside the dorm room. Willow wiggled her fingers at him even as she raised an amused eyebrow. She picked up one of their white boards and wrote, “Didn’t want to be alone, huh?”

           

Spike shrugged and rolled his eyes, grabbing the board and scribbling, “You mind?”

           

Willow shook her head and wrote back, “No. Homework can wait. Movie?”

           

“What do you have?”

           

They were busy watching _Sleepless in Seattle_ , after Spike’s vehement, though silent, protestations, when they both heard the pounding. Sharing an anxious glance, Willow stopped the movie and went to the door. Spike stood in front of it and nodded, and the redhead pulled it open. He frowned, not seeing anyone right away, and then stepped out of the room. The blonde girl plowed straight into him, knocking him to the floor and causing his knee to twist under him. He gave a silent yelp of pain, and then his eyes widened as he saw the monsters that had been chasing her. Willow and the other girl were on either side of him in a split second, hauling him to his feet and supporting him down the stairs.

           

They managed to reach a laundry room and locked the door. Even between the three of them they couldn’t move the vending machine though. Spike was barely standing, his knee throbbing, but he wasn’t just going to sit back and watch the monsters get to the girls. Willow pulled him back, away from the door and the soda machine, and then stared at the machine intently.

           

It rattled a couple of times, but didn’t move. Spike watched the stranger watch Willow, until she slumped against the wall. The blonde looked from her to the machine, tensing as the banging on the door continued. It seemed as though the Gentlemen would be through any minute. Suddenly, the sense in the room drastically changed as the blonde grabbed Willow’s hand. Both their heads snapped around to stare at the soda machine, which slid across the floor and slammed into the door.

           

Spike realized that he had disappeared from the room as the two girls stared at one another. He almost felt as though he were interrupting a very private moment. He could sense the unresolved sexual tension that swirled around them.

           

And when their voices came back, no one quite knew what to say.


	4. A Different Kind of Destiny

“…I’m looking for a place/I’m searching for a face/Is anybody here I know?/’Cause nothing’s going right/and everything’s a mess/and no one likes to be alone/Isn’t anyone trying to find me?/Won’t somebody come take me home?/It’s a damn cold night/Trying to figure out this life/Won’t you take me by the hand/Take me somewhere new/I don’t know who you are/But I—I’m with you.” ~Avril Levigne, “I’m With You”

 

Spike looked down, out over the cliff’s edge, feeling the pull of danger even as his toes caused a few stones to fall. The old Crawford mansion sat behind him, its monolithic bulk full of memories he’d rather get rid of. Looking back on those days, he honestly couldn’t say which was worse: being a vampire stuck in a wheelchair and watching your girlfriend get it on with the Great Poof, or being human. There were differences, of course, but he wasn’t sure that having a heartbeat was any better. He felt just as useless with a pulse as he had in that chair.

           

A few more pebbles rolled off the edge, and Spike watched with a sick fascination as they fell. It was a long way down, and if he jumped, there was a very good chance he wouldn’t survive the fall. Even if he did survive, he would probably die of his injuries before anyone found him.

           

He took an involuntary step back. As hopeless as things seemed these days, there was still something inside of him that clung to life. It was why he hadn’t found a gun and shot himself, or hanged himself, or sent his car off the road into a tree, or… Well, he’d thought of a dozen different ways to do the deed, and so far hadn’t acted on any of his fantasies. They were tempting, but he held back, if only because killing himself would be letting the soldiers that did this to him win. And Spike, human or not, liked to win.

           

Sighing, he turned back from the cliff’s edge and headed back towards town. Giles had not forbidden him from leaving the apartment, but Spike knew very well that he wasn’t really supposed to go out by himself. It was too risky. But he’d been feeling caged up again, and needed to do something other than sit in front of the TV or read a book. In Giles’ apartment those were pretty much the extent of his options.

           

He was just meandering through the downtown area, past the Espresso Pump, when he bumped into someone. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, changing course to move around and go on.

           

“William?”

           

There was only one person who called him that, and sure enough, when Spike looked up, he found himself staring at Joyce. “Oh. H’lo.”

           

“How are you?” she asked warmly, and Spike couldn’t help but mentally compare mother and daughter, even if it was like apples and oranges.

           

“Alright,” he said, trying to make it sound like the truth. He wasn’t dead, so he supposed that was something, anyway. And then, belatedly remembering his manners, he asked, “How are you, Joyce?”

           

She smiled at him. “Good. I was just off to get something for lunch. Would you like to join me?”

           

Spike hesitated. He didn’t have any cash on him, even if he was hungry. It seemed as though he was always hungry now.

           

Joyce seemed to sense his hesitation, and the reasons behind it. “It’ll be my treat,” she stated. “If you don’t mind, we can grab it and go back to the gallery. There’s a shipment I still need to unpack.”

           

Spike held a brief mental debate with himself, trying to decide if letting Joyce feed him would be taking advantage, and if he really wanted to spend the rest of the day by himself or with Giles. It wasn’t a hard choice in the end. “Don’t mind at all.”

 

~~~~~ 

Willow plopped down on her bed in the dorm room and looked over at Buffy, who was diligently trying to study. Ever since the Gentlemen had caused she and Riley to inadvertently reveal their secret identities, Buffy seemed to have a lot less time for studying. Her decision after the last averted apocalypse to continue seeing him wasn’t sitting easy though, and Willow didn’t blame her. Everything they knew about Riley’s little group of commandos was not of the good. Especially where it concerned Spike.

           

Spike. He was the only person who had met Tara, and who had observed Willow’s attraction to her. In fact, when Willow had seen him the other day at Giles’ apartment, just after they’d nearly been killed, he had asked about her, how she was doing. And the way he asked it had said everything: that he knew what had happened, that he had sensed the undercurrents of tension that ran around the room, and that he was okay with it. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else, and he had pulled her aside to ask, so as not to draw any attention to the question. Spike was fast becoming a friend, one who knew more about her than her roommate did. Willow knew she needed to discuss things with Buffy, because the Slayer was killing Spike in an entirely different way than with a pointy weapon.

           

“I need to talk to you.”

           

Buffy turned in her desk chair to look over at Willow. “What about?” Then, frowning slightly, she said, “Okay, you have serious face. What’s up, Will?”

           

Willow took a deep breath and braced herself. “It’s about Spike.”

           

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Case closed.

           

Willow wasn’t ready to accept that. She was tired of bitchy-Buffy. She wanted her friend back, the one she could talk to. She also didn’t want to have to hide the fact that she was making other friends, which would be much easier if Buffy weren’t being stupid. “I don’t care,” she replied bluntly. “He’s miserable, Buffy, and you don’t even care.”

           

“Good,” Buffy said coldly. “He should be miserable after everything he’s done. It’s called suffering, and he caused plenty of it.”

           

“Is that the same thing you said to Angel after he came back from Hell?” It was a low blow, and Willow knew it. She also didn’t care. It seemed that sometimes the only thing Buffy would listen to was a two-by-four upside the head.

           

“Angel was different,” Buffy replied in a low voice after a long pause. “He had a soul.”

           

“Spike has a soul and a heartbeat,” Willow replied with ruthless logic. “Seems to me like he’s one-up.”

           

“Why does this matter so much to you?” Buffy asked angrily, standing up to face her friend. “This is Spike we’re talking about. You know, the guy that tried to kill you last year? Why are you suddenly all buddy-buddy with him?”

           

Willow stood as well, facing Buffy with as much moxie as she could muster. “Because he’s a pretty decent guy,” Willow replied. “He’s having a hard time right now, and you’re making it worse. It seems to me like you’re trying to win the Miss Cordelia Chase award, and you’re succeeding pretty well with Spike. You’re treating him just like Cordelia was treating Xander whenever they weren’t dating. That’s just wrong.”

           

Buffy spun around, unable to face her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           

“Oh yeah?” Willow asked. “You know what, Buffy? You basically told me when Oz left that life happens that way sometimes and we just have to deal with it. So I’m giving you the same advice. Whatever is pissing you off so much, whether it’s Spike being human or Angel still being a vampire, get over it. It’s not Spike’s fault.”

           

It was a palpable hit. Buffy’s face started to crumple. “It’s not fair,” she protested. “Spike hates this, I can tell. Angel would—”

           

“Angel would love it,” Willow agreed. “If only because it meant he could be with you. But that still doesn’t make it Spike’s fault.”

           

Buffy came to rest on her bed, bottom lip still trembling, but the tears were contained for the moment. She looked up at Willow. “Every time I see him, I think of Angel, what Angel could do with being human, how much he would love it,” she confessed. “And I hate him because it’s Spike instead.”

           

Willow sat down next to Buffy and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. “I get that, Buffy, I really do. But that doesn’t make it right.”

           

“I know,” Buffy said quietly. “Even when he’s just sitting there, Spike can push all my buttons.” She laughed bitterly. “You know what’s almost worse, though?” she asked. “Knowing what Riley is, what he’s a part of, and knowing what they did to Spike, I wonder if I should even get involved with him. I know it’s not fair, but I want to blame Spike for that too.”

           

Willow sighed. She really did understand. She had loved Oz, but she had also hated him for leaving her. It seemed more natural than not to have mixed emotions about people. “I don’t think you have to be best friends,” Willow assured her. “But being less of a bitch when you’re around him would be appreciated.”

           

Buffy nodded. “I’ll try.”

           

Willow shook her head. “It’s too bad that you two don’t get along,” she said, almost thinking aloud. “You guys have a ton in common. If anyone would understand what Spike’s going through it would be you.”

           

Buffy stared at her incredulously. “Huh?”

           

“You know, last year when the Council put you through the test where you lost all your powers?” Willow asked, seemingly surprised that Buffy hadn’t figured it out for herself. “Of all of us, you’re the only one who’s had super powers and then lost them. Maybe it was only temporary for you, but think of how Spike must feel knowing that it’s permanent unless he gets turned again. I just thought that you would probably be the best one to help him adjust, you know. But I understand if you don’t want to be around him.”

           

She glanced over at the clock and gave a little “eep” of alarm. “I’ve gotta go, Buffy,” she said. “I’m going to be late for class.”

           

Buffy watched her go silently, thoughts churning around in her brain. Willow was right about her being a bitch. She’d known it, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. At the same time, she had a hard time believing that she and Spike had anything at all in common. But Willow’s comments stayed with her, and she couldn’t quite forget them, especially when she would catch a glimpse of Spike.

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Where do you want this one, Joyce?” Spike asked, holding up a delicately crafted vase.

           

Joyce glanced back at him from where she was turning the “Open” sign to “Closed” at the door. Spike’s black t-shirt and jeans were dusty, with bits of packing clinging to the fabric. His hair was mussed, with more packing in his hair and a streak of dust down one cheek. What warmed Joyce’s heart the most, however, was the sparkle that was in Spike’s eyes.

           

They had come back from getting a couple sandwiches and had eaten in the back. Joyce’s assistant had quit the week before, and she hadn’t had time yet to look for someone new. That meant she had to unpack the new shipment herself, and there were several pieces she needed an extra pair of hands for. Spike had willingly volunteered his services and then had spent the rest of the afternoon helping her unpack crates while she took care of the customers up front. For the first time in a while, Joyce was actually going to be able to get out of the gallery before ten.

           

“Just find a spot for it in the back somewhere,” she directed. “I’ll have to clear out the front this weekend and exchange the pieces.”

           

He nodded and disappeared into the back again, coming out a few minutes later, brushing his hands on the back of his jeans. “It’s all done,” Spike said easily.

           

Joyce smiled widely at him. “Thank you, William. It’s so nice to get out of here at a decent hour for once.”

           

Spike smiled back almost shyly. “My pleasure.” His eyes caught the time on the clock and then widened comically. “Bloody hell. Giles is probably going to think I got grabbed again.”

           

“Come on, then,” she said with a smile. “I’ll give you a ride back.” Over the course of the afternoon, Joyce had gotten the full story of what had been done to him, and she could read the pain in between the lines. She also sensed that there was little standing between Spike and death at this point. Joyce couldn’t help but wonder what it was that kept him from killing himself, though she was grateful to whatever it might be. Joyce had always felt a pull towards Spike, but over the last week or so she had come to like him for himself. Not only had she returned home after her trip to find an impeccable house, but she’d also discovered that he had cleaned up fallen knick-knacks after the earthquake and checked for other damage. While that had disposed her to like him quite a bit, his presence and help that afternoon had given her new insights to his person.

           

Joyce had discovered that Spike knew quite a bit about anything that interested him and not much of anything about things that didn’t. He could look at a piece and tell you where it had come from because “he had been there.” At least, that’s what Spike gave as his reason. He came up with obscure facts that not even Joyce had known, all the while charming her with tales of his exploits, miraculously free of gore. He was an absolute fount of information on anything having to do with history, geography, literature, and travel. And he could charm a miser out of his last coin.

           

On the way home, Joyce broached a topic she’d been thinking of for the last few hours. “You know, William, I’ve been thinking I need to hire a new assistant.”

           

“Noticed that,” he replied. “I’m surprised you hadn’t gotten one yet. He left a week or so ago, yeah?”

           

“Well, yes, I just haven’t had time to get to the newspaper yet to get an ad put in the paper,” she explained, building her case as she went along.

           

Spike shook his head. “You work too hard. You should get some help.”

           

“What about you?”

           

His head snapped around. “Who, me?”

           

“Yes, you,” she replied. “Unless you don’t want a job, and if you don’t feel free to let me know.”

           

“No,” he said, looking down. “It’s just—been thinking about getting a job for a while now. I don’t have any identification or papers or anything like that though. And, I just—why me?”

           

Joyce heard the uncertainty in his voice, and she spoke quietly. “We can work around the papers for now. As for why you, you proved yourself to me this afternoon, Spike. Any time you hire someone new, it’s always a gamble. There are interviews and applications. At least with you, I know who I’m getting, and I know I can trust you.”

           

“Right then,” he said slowly. “I’ll do it. But only if you promise to let me know if it’s not working out for you,” he insisted. “I won’t have you bollocksing up everything or letting me do it for you, just because you feel a bit sorry for me.”

           

“Agreed,” Joyce said, just as she pulled up in front of Giles’ apartment. “Come by sometime tomorrow, and we can discuss the details, if you like.”

           

He nodded and opened the car door, then looked back at her. “Thanks, Joyce.” Spike gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and then disappeared out into the night, blending into the darkness without difficulty.

           

Joyce smiled as she looked after him, half-wondering what it might have been like to have a son like that. She thought it might have been quite nice.

           

Spike slipped inside the house as quietly as possible. It really wasn’t too late, shortly after 8, but Giles had been rather beat up after his encounter with the Vahrall demons earlier that week so he’d been resting fairly regularly. Spike had expressed his regret at not being there to help, but Giles had seemed fairly certain that he wouldn’t have been able to do much besides getting himself stomped on. Spike couldn’t argue with that.

           

“I was about ready to send out the cavalry,” Giles said from his position at his desk. He turned slightly to face Spike, who was looking dusty, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

           

Spike ducked his head, unsure of what to say. There was a part of him that was truly touched by Giles’ concern; it really was nice to know that someone cared. On the other hand, he was three times the man’s age, and he hated feeling like a teenager caught out after curfew. As though reading his mind, Giles continued, “Well, you can certainly take care of yourself. But perhaps in the future you might leave a note so I know _when_ to send out the search party.”

           

With a shrug of his shoulders, Spike indicated his agreement and then collapsed on the couch with a soft thump. “You know where I can get papers, that sort of thing?” he asked.

           

“I’ve been looking into that,” Giles said, going back to what he was working on at his desk. Spike would tell him where he had been, or not, when he chose. Giles was well aware of how difficult this transition was on Spike. The loss of independence was a good part of it to which he wouldn’t add by grilling for details. “I know people who might be able to help, and they owe me a favor or two.”

           

“You don’t have to use up your favors on my account,” Spike said, speaking from the other side of the couch back and not looking up.

           

Giles raised an eyebrow, wondering what had brought that on. “It’s no hardship,” he assured the other man. “May I ask why getting identification is suddenly so important?”

           

There was a long silence, and then Spike admitted in a low voice, “Ran into Joyce today. She wants me to help her in the gallery. Told me she could work around the paperwork for a while, but I’m going to need it at some point. Can’t live off your charity forever, yeah?”

           

“You are welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Giles said quietly. He made the offer knowing that Spike didn’t want to stay with him forever. Whatever Spike might be as a human, he was not a freeloader. He had too much pride for that.

           

Spike sat up to look at Giles, his face full of emotion. Giles was rapidly beginning to understand that he had always been passionate, before, during, and after being a vampire. Giles’ mother would have called him a “sensitive boy,” and she wouldn’t have been far wrong. “Don’t know if I’ve said it,” Spike began tentatively, “but if you hadn’t taken me in—”

           

Giles met his eyes and gave him something resembling a smile. “I had been wishing for a new project when you showed up on my doorstep,” he replied. “I will say this for you, you do keep things interesting, William.”

           

Spike ran a hand through his hair, two-toned and curly at this point. “So you think you can get the papers?”

           

“I can get them,” Giles assured him. “Give me another week or so.” He thought of something and a rather smug smile appeared on his face. “You do realize you’ll have to get different clothing, don’t you? Jeans and a t-shirt are hardly appropriate attire to wear to work at an art gallery.”

           

If anything, Spike paled. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Hadn’t even thought of that. What am I supposed to wear?”

           

“I’d ask Joyce,” Giles replied. “You do have the funds for new clothing, don’t you?”

           

Spike shrugged, still distracted by the thought of having to go shopping. He would probably need a haircut and such as well. “Some, unless you need that for the paperwork?”

           

“I think this can be a cashless transaction,” Giles replied, still amused. “Perhaps you might ask one of the girls to take you shopping. They would have a better idea than I as to what a young man wears to work.”

           

Spike was not comforted by the suggestion, but he knew it wasn’t a bad one. Buffy might be a shopping queen, but he would have to ask Willow for obvious reasons. He didn’t think the redhead would mind. Running it through his mind, he looked back at Giles, and remembered that he hadn’t finished what he wanted to say. “Thank you,” he stated, with all seriousness. “For everything.”

           

“You’re quite welcome, Spike,” Giles replied with equal seriousness. “I believe I might owe you still for saving my life. With Angelus.”

           

A small, wistful smile touched Spike’s lips. “That wasn’t for you, mate. That was for your Slayer, and Dru. Debt’s already been paid.” He stood. “Better get this dust off me,” he remarked heading off for the bathroom.

           

Giles watched him go, a sense of relief filling him. Spike seemed to be in better spirits, and was more ready to join the world. He had often thought over the past couple weeks that Spike would be better off with something to do, like a job, but he’d hesitated to suggest it, having no idea of what he might be qualified for. He had even less of an idea of what Spike might want to do. It seemed that he had solved the problem on his own. For that, Giles was grateful, if only because he hated to see someone he was coming to like fall into the depths of despondency and stay there.

 

There was something to admire in Spike, in his utter unwillingness to give in, his stubborn clinging to life. And while he would never say it out loud, there was something endearing about this ex-vampire, trying so desperately to divine a different sort of destiny. It proved that Spike had, as Giles’ countrymen might say, a certain kind of pluck.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Willow grabbed her purse and jacket, heading for the door in the dorm room. Buffy appeared in the doorway just as she was reaching for the knob, however, and they both stopped, looking surprised. “Hey, Will,” Buffy said. “You going out?”

           

“Uh, yeah,” Willow replied. She had hoped to leave before Buffy got back, not really wanting to explain the afternoon’s activities. “You were planning on going out with Riley today, right?”

           

Buffy nodded. “We’re supposed to have dinner together tonight, I think. What’s up with you? Got a hot date?”

           

Willow’s eyes widened and she looked down at the outfit it had taken her over half an hour to choose. “Me? Date? No!” She took a deep breath and calmed herself, deciding that part of the truth was easier to tell than a lie. “Actually, Spike asked me to help him go shopping. He just got a new job, and he needs more upscale clothes.”

           

Buffy frowned slightly, though not because she was displeased with the news. She had been doing a lot of thinking over the last day or so about her reactions to Spike, and had come to the conclusion that Willow had been right. She hadn’t been fair, and she did need to try and act more civilly towards him. Now, what had her frowning was the idea of doing a makeover on Spike. It actually sounded kind of fun, because in some decent clothes, he wouldn’t be bad looking. “That sounds like fun,” she finally came up with.

           

“I think it will be. He was supposed to check with your mom, and then we were going to figure out what he needed.”

           

Buffy stared at her. “What do you mean check with my mom?”

           

“Oh, I didn’t realize you didn’t know,” Willow said, blushing at having put her foot in her mouth. “Your mom offered Spike a job at the gallery since her assistant left last week. You really didn’t know?”

           

“I didn’t even know Mom’s assistant quit,” Buffy replied, thinking that she needed to talk to her mom a little more often. “Doesn’t that seem a little weird to you?” Buffy asked. “That my mom and Spike get along so well?”

           

Willow shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s pretty easy to get along with, really. Once you get to know him.” She tossed her purse over her shoulder. “I should go. I’m going to be late.”

           

She didn’t even look back to see how Buffy was handling her comment. Buffy did seem a little happier about the Spike thing recently, though, so maybe she was getting over the fact that he was human. It only made sense since Buffy was starting out on this new thing with Riley. Surely she was finally beginning to get over Angel.

           

Willow, for her part, was more excited about the fact that Tara was going to come with them. The other girl had asked Willow if she wanted to hang out, but she’d already promised Spike that she’d help pick out a new wardrobe. Since Spike already knew Tara and knew pretty much what was going on, she didn’t think he’d mind Tara’s presence. So it wasn’t a date so much as a group activity. There was something about Tara that drew her the way no one since Oz had. It was strange and new, and only Spike had even an inkling.

 

~~~~~ 

 

Spike stared at the bills in his hands as though he could make them multiply by sheer will power. He’d never been one to carry around a lot of cash; Angelus had been the money guy. Spike had embraced being a vampire with a passion that had previously been focused on his poetry. With that had come the rejection of everything he had been before. He had taken Angelus’ lessons to heart, even if he hadn’t been able to win Drusilla; he took what he wanted, when he wanted, with no care as to the consequences. Money had become unnecessary.

           

Now it seemed very important again.

           

The only reason Spike had any cash at all was because he’d gotten take-out on his way out of L.A. Waste not, want not, so he’d lifted the guy’s wallet at the same time. He squashed the feeling of guilt that came with that memory and tried to concentrate on the figures. There would be enough for new clothes, but it would take time to build up enough dosh to get an apartment. There was rent, and deposit, and of course food and utilities.

           

He glanced bleakly out the windshield of his car. It was the only thing of value he still had, and even it wasn’t worth much. What did it say about a man when he had lived over a century and had only a few hundred dollars and a beat up old car to his name?

           

Sighing, he got out of the vehicle. He didn’t feel comfortable this close to the campus, too close to the soldiers, but he was supposed to pick Willow up here. But it was getting hot in the car as the California sun beat down, and temperatures meant something to him now. Spike leaned up against the door and looked around.

           

Right into the face of the girl Willow fancied. They stared at each other for a long uncomfortable moment, each too shy to make the first move. “H’lo.”

           

The blonde girl blinked and then murmured a hesitant greeting, her eyes on the ground.

           

Spike tried to remember his manners and her name, neither coming easily. “Tara, right?” he finally asked, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence.

           

“Y-yeah,” Tara replied, stuttering a little with nerves. “Y-you’re Spike.”

           

“That’s right,” he replied, trying to figure out if Willow had said something about her coming along, because he didn’t think her being there was an accident.

           

“Hey!” Willow came jogging up, a look of anticipation laced with panic on her face. “Spike. Tara. Uh, sorry I’m late.” Her eyes were begging for Spike to understand, and he glanced from her to the other witch in consternation. It’s not like he minded another person, but he didn’t really know this girl.

           

And yet, there was something in her shy aspect that begged to be drawn out. “No worries,” he said easily. “You coming too, Tara?”

           

“I-if th-that’s okay,” she said. “I w-wouldn’t w-want to in-intrude.”

           

“You’re not intruding,” Willow stated, before Spike could make a reply. She shot him a look that plainly said to play along. Spike was amused that she could be as bossy as Buffy when she wanted to be. “I’m sure Spike wouldn’t mind a second opinion.”

           

Spike looked at Willow’s shirt, which had a riot of colors he wasn’t sure belonged together, and then at Tara’s more sedate outfit. “Y’know, it’s always wise to get a second opinion.”

           

They made it to the mall before Willow said anything about his new haircut. That had been on his list of things to get done before talking to Joyce, and he felt presentable again. Spike wasn’t sure what to make of the color, which was mostly natural at this point. Willow liked the style however. “It looks good,” she said, looking at him out in the sunlight in the mall’s parking lot.

 

She thought the daylight suited him, as much as the darkness had. Clad in his black jeans and t-shirt, his hair short again and unruly, curling up at the ends as she’d never seen it before, his blue eyes open and vulnerable, Willow wondered why she’d ever been afraid of him. Sure, she knew he had been an evil vampire. But seeing him now, those days seemed a lifetime away, and she wondered if he felt the same.

           

Willow smiled and said more enthusiastically. “Really, Spike. It looks good.”

           

“I l-like it like that,” was Tara’s offering. She was beginning to warm up in his presence, not least because Spike was trying to make her feel welcome.

           

He gave a sheepish grin. “Guess it doesn’t matter, but I didn’t want to be looking like the business end of a mop. Let’s get this over with before I start regretting the whole thing.”

           

It wasn’t too long before Spike had good reason to be grateful for the girls’ presence. Sure, he’d looked for clothes before, but he hadn’t paid for anything, and he’d only had one style in the last decade or so. Joyce had told him business casual, which both Tara and Willow seemed to understand, but he hadn’t a clue. The girls told him it meant no jeans or t-shirts, and said they’d take good care of him.

           

Surprisingly enough, Tara was the biggest help. She knew exactly where to go to find the nicest clothing at the lowest prices. She deal-hunted on the clearance racks and could find the good stuff even when all Spike could see was junk. Willow had her own system, and came up with some finds as well, but he wouldn’t have even had an idea of where to start if it hadn’t been for the both of them.

           

After a few hours of shopping, Spike had found several pairs of pants, as well as a couple new pairs of jeans. And other than one pair of slacks, nothing was in black. There were long-sleeved t-shirts and button down Oxfords. He had drawn the line at plaids and stripes, and was holding his own when it came to color. Everything was mostly blues or grays, with a couple greens and reds thrown in for good measure. But he was balking now.

           

“Just try it on,” Willow said persuasively, holding up the fine-knit shirt in a light, cornflower blue. It was a perfect color for him, with the blue eyes and fair skin.

           

He shook his head stubbornly. Cornflower blue did not strike him as a manly color. Former Big Bads didn’t wear _that_ color blue. There were very good reasons. “It’ll make me look like a poof.”

           

Willow and Tara exchanged amused glances, and Spike knew he was going to lose this argument. “Come on, ducks,” he said, pleading with Tara for a rational opinion. “It’s not a—a—good color.”

           

“It’s not going to make you look like a ‘poof,’” Tara assured him. “B-besides, I think I’m going to have to go with Willow on this one. It _would_ look g-good on you.”

           

Spike sighed, thinking that he was always whipped by women, didn’t matter if he was human or vampire. When he came out of the changing room, he could tell from both of their faces that the sweater was a good choice. Then he caught the eyes of at least three other women, and for the first time since becoming human, Spike allowed himself to bask in the sheer pleasure of being noticed. “Fine,” he stated. “Guess I’m getting this one too.”

           

“Get two,” Tara advised. “I think the navy too.”

           

Spike thought of his rapidly receding funds and bit back another sigh. He would soon be making money, legitimately, and could replace whatever he spent. He turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the three-way mirror. From his vantage point, he wasn’t sure that he was really anything special. The new sweater stood out in stark contrast to his old, black jeans, but to his inexpert eye, he merely looked tired.

           

Frowning, he wondered if everything that had made him special was lost with his demon. If now he would fade into the woodwork as William had, disappearing slowly until there was nothing left of him. If perhaps he would end up as nothing more than dust, a different route that he had planned, but the same end. Spike wondered what it was all for, why he was even making the effort.

 

He felt a gentle hand on his arm. Tara stood next to him, her eyes full of compassion. Reading in him things he could not see himself. “It takes time.”

           

That was all that was said, but it was enough. Joyce had said the same thing. Maybe one day he’d believe it himself, and wouldn’t need anybody to tell him.


	5. Speaking in Tongues

“Well I sat down next to a photograph./Tried my best almost made her laugh./She was my toughest crowd./There in the way was a mountain up in the clouds./Well I can’t sleep and I’m not in love./I can’t speak without messing up./Eyes tell of what’s behind./And hers showed the way to a long and lonely climb,/But through failure I’ll proceed./And she’ll see how far I’ve come.” ~Nickel Creek, “Speak”

“You sure about this?” Spike asked Willow uncertainly. Somehow him showing up at Buffy’s birthday celebration didn’t seem like the best idea she’d ever had. He tugged at the hem of his sweater, uncomfortable in his new finery.

           

Willow waved his hands away from the sweater and gave him a once-over. It was definitely odd seeing Spike in something other than his usual black on black, though he was still wearing black pants. But the blue sweater brought out his eyes, and he’d bleached his hair again, which made him look like the old Spike as well as someone completely different. “Of course, I’m sure,” she replied. “Everybody is going to be there, even Giles. There’s no reason to leave you out.”

           

“Except for the fact that the Slayer hates me,” Spike pointed out rather glumly. Indeed, he had discovered that he didn’t enjoy being hated by anyone very much. At this point, he was getting along pretty well with everybody, including Xander. Somehow, that just didn’t hold any comfort for him.

           

“She doesn’t hate you,” Willow assured him. “She just needs to get to know you and she’ll warm up in no time. It’s not like you don’t have anything in common with her.”

Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they walked into the dormitory. “Right. Because trying to kill someone gives you so much to talk about.”

           

Willow did roll her eyes. “Don’t be that way, Spike. It’ll be fine, I promise. Look, I’ve gotta go up and get her. You—you can just stay here and mingle. Until the surprise.”

           

Mingle. Yeah. He glanced around the room at the various college students. Mingle with who? It wasn’t like he actually knew anybody here. Times like these, he felt more like William than ever, only without the poetry. Probably a good thing at this point. Spike caught sight of Giles and made his way over. “This your idea?”

           

“Hardly,” Giles murmured, feeling as out of place as Spike at the moment, and looking more so. At least Spike appeared to be the age of the rest of the young people surrounding them. “I wouldn’t have insisted it be a surprise.”

           

Spike gave a murmur of agreement. “Enough jumping out at the Slayer as it is, yeah?” He sighed as Xander and Anya made shushing sounds and started flipping off the lights.

           

Willow came over to grab his arm as soon as the lights came back on, stating that she wanted him to meet some of her friends. Spike wasn’t too sure about that, but he gave Giles a helpless little shrug and let Willow take the lead. Surprisingly enough, he liked most of the people he met, in that “you seem cool” way you have time for at a party. A couple of times he glanced back over at Giles to see the older man looking a bit lost, but he would soon get called back into conversation again by one of the pretty girls that seemed bent on talking to him.

           

Spike lost track of Willow at some point and was beginning to genuinely enjoy himself. Laura, a sweet looking blonde, was hanging on his every word as he entertained her with stories about England and listened to her moan about her classes and professors. “You should come to our party tonight,” she said, smiling. “Since we’ll actually be able to have something decent to drink.”

           

He raised his eyebrows in question, and she giggled. “Well, not that the punch isn’t great, but you can’t bring alcohol into the dorms.”

           

“Suppose that might be alright,” he agreed.

           

“Unless you came with Willow,” Laura hastened on. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble or anything.”

           

Spike blinked, realizing that she was asking him if he was _with_ Willow. The implication of the statement was that she wanted him to come to the party with _her_. “Uh, no,” he stammered just a bit. “It’s more like we’re good friends.” He tried to figure out a polite way to say it and finally said, “She fancies someone else.”

           

Laura flashed him a bright smile. “That’s great! If you want, we could go now.”

           

He hesitated for a brief moment before deciding that her plan seemed like a good one. It wasn’t like Buffy had actually invited him to her party, and Willow seemed to be doing just fine on her own. “Let me just go let Red know.”

           

Weaving his way through the crowded rec room, Spike touched Willow tentatively on the shoulder. “You mind if I leave?” he asked. “Just got invited to a different party. One with alcohol.”

           

Willow looked past him to see Laura waiting and smiled. She had known Spike would be a big hit if she could just get him out of Giles’ apartment. A little positive attention from members of the opposite sex was bound to perk him up. “Sure, go ahead, leave me,” she teased.

           

“Ta, luv,” he smiled. “Make it up to you one of these days.” Willow fake pouted, causing his smile to grow into a grin, and he turned to go, almost running directly into a broad chest.

           

Spike took an abrupt step back. “Excuse me,” he said, a little put out at almost being run over. Then he saw who it was he had bumped into, and all the color drained from his face. He knew this man, had seen him before in the underground laboratory. Spike felt a hand on his arm, and he looked into Willow’s face, just managing to keep himself from running in the opposite direction.

           

The taller man looked at Spike with a curious expression and the faint recognition reserved for a person whose face you remember, but not their name or where you know them from. “Do I know you?”

           

Spike wasn’t sure how to reply to that, or even if he could. His mouth was dry, his palms were wet, and the only thing he could think of was getting away. His eyes met Buffy’s, and he pleaded with her silently not to give him away.

           

Buffy was a little upset that Spike and Riley had managed to run into each other. There were enough people in the rec room that she should have been able to keep them apart. Seeing the panic on Spike’s face in that instant was enough to cause her to feel sympathy for him though. The fear in his eyes told her he didn’t completely trust her not to give him away. For that, she felt a pang of guilt.

           

Buffy laughed. “I doubt it, Riley. William is Giles’ nephew. He’s only been here for, what? A few weeks?” She looked over at Spike and was relieved to see a little color back in his cheeks as he realized that she was going to back him up.

           

“Yeah. About a month, I suppose.” Even with the cover story, Spike still was thinking fight or flight, and without some really big weapon, he was leaning towards flight.

           

Riley smiled warmly and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Buffy talks about Giles all the time. Your uncle must be a great guy.”

           

With more than a little hesitation, Spike shook Riley’s hand, trying not to let any of his nervousness show through the gesture. “He is.”

           

“So, what brings you to the States? Are you going to be here long?” They were perfectly polite questions to which Spike had no answers. He hadn’t even seriously thought about a cover story.

           

“Riley,” Buffy said, looking embarrassed and tugging gently on his arm. “I don’t think William really wants to talk about that right now.” Spike took his cue and put an appropriately somber look on his face. “His parents, you know—”

           

Buffy left it hanging there, and the effect was amazing. Riley’s face went red, and he started stammering his apologies. Apparently, he was concerned that Spike might break down right there; emotions were not something he was prepared to deal with.

           

“It’s alright,” Spike replied magnanimously. “You couldn’t have known.” He looked back past Buffy and her boyfriend to Laura, who was beginning to look impatient. “I should go. Gotta meet a girl. You’ll tell Rupert?” he asked Willow.

           

“Sure.” He brushed past Buffy and her soldier, glancing back over his shoulder once to see Buffy looking back at him. For a moment, their eyes met and she gave him a small, kind smile. Spike could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat, and his stomach did a quick flip-flop. In the next moment, he was berating himself for even being slightly attracted. Buffy had a boyfriend—one of the bloody soldier boys, no less—and he was beneath her. He swallowed and took a deep breath, coming to stand next to Laura. “Sorry, about that, luv.” Spike gave her the most charming smile he had in his arsenal. “Got caught by a couple old friends.”

 

The party was—interesting. Laura was a nice-enough girl, her friends were decent people, and there was beer a-plenty. (Even if it was the piss-poor American stuff.) There was only one real problem. Spike didn’t quite fit. He didn’t really feel as though he had a place with the Scoobies, not even now that he was human. At least among them, however, he didn’t have to pretend. There was no question of what he had been with them, but these—children had no idea. A few short weeks ago, he would have been looking at them like an all-you-can-eat buffet, and now he was supposed to be their friend? It seemed too great a leap.

 

He could tell people where he worked, that he lived with his uncle, that he’d come from England, but only part of it was true. If Spike really wanted to be friends, it would involve coming clean eventually, and who would believe him? Where could he go that his explanations wouldn’t have to be severely altered in order to pass muster? To whom could he speak the truth?

 

The gathering of teens and young adults merely made him feel old and tired. Spike felt more weighed down by his century and a half now than he ever had while a vampire. All he could see were innocent young faces, faces that had no concept of the things he had done, what he had perpetrated. How close they all were to death.

 

How strange that it was the Slayer and her friends that could make him feel most alive now. Spike thought perhaps it was because they danced with death nearly every day; there was no need to hide his past, or who he was. There was no need to pretend that he was merely William, on holiday with his uncle, trying to figure out where he was going with his life.

 

Sometime after midnight, he finally gave up. Weaving his way through the crowded living room, he touched Laura’s shoulder. “Taking off, pet,” Spike stated, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music.

 

“Are you sure you have to leave?” she asked. Her eyes locked with his, and Spike realized that he could have an easy lay tonight if he wanted it. A few weeks ago, he would have taken her in a heartbeat and then drained her dry. It made him realize how much things had changed that he wasn’t even tempted.

 

He gave her a small smile. “I’m a bit tired tonight,” Spike explained, letting her down easy.

 

Laura, however, had more brains than he’d given her credit for, or at least more perception. “It’s okay if you’re not looking,” she said. “You just seemed like you could use a little fun.”

 

Spike stared at her for a moment, knowing that the girl had seen both everything and nothing. “Things are a bit unsettled for me right now.” He looked around the room. Everyone looked so happy, and it only made him more depressed.

 

The blonde nodded, told him to wait, and then disappeared again. “Here,” Laura said, handing him a slip of paper. “I know you’re not interested right now, but if you change your mind, give me a call.” She smiled at him. “Even if it’s just for coffee.”

 

He responded with a smile and a brief, chaste kiss on the lips. “Thanks, luv. I’ll remember that.” The small slip of paper tucked neatly away, Spike headed out into the cooler night air to his Desoto. He paused and took a deep breath, realizing how much he liked the quiet, even if sometimes he couldn’t stand the company of his own thoughts.

 

~~~~~

 

At some point, Spike discovered the benefits of working. It was more than a paycheck, he’d realized. Stuck inside Giles’ apartment all day, there was little he could do to take his mind off the pathetic state of his life. The nightmares, paired with the lack of activity, made it difficult to sleep. The gallery required attention to a hundred different details, however, which made it impossible to brood. No, not brood. Spike didn’t brood. He might dwell, but he didn’t brood, mope, or in any other way resemble someone else he wouldn’t name.

 

When seven o’clock came and went, Joyce was getting ready to go home, while Spike was still trying to get the filing system straightened out. Her last assistant had been rather haphazard about things. Joyce paused at the office door, looking at Spike with concern. “Are you sure you want to stay?” she asked. “I feel bad about leaving you here.”

 

“It’s alright,” Spike assured her. “It’s not like I’m expected anywhere.”

 

Joyce gave him a smile. “Still, I appreciate you staying. It will be nice to make it to my book club for once.”

           

“I’m glad I can be of service then,” he replied. “No worries.”

           

“No, not while you’re here,” Joyce agreed, surprising him by leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Don’t work too hard.  


“Never.” Spike gave her a rakish smile and then watched as she left, going back to the books and piles of invoices stacked in front of him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to spend another evening trying not to drive Giles crazy with his antsy presence. In fact, the Watcher was probably having a grand time.

 

~~~~~

 

Unfortunately, Giles was not having a grand time. He had felt out of place at Buffy’s birthday, not to mention out of the loop. Giles still couldn’t believe that Buffy was dating someone whom he knew nothing about. Willow had just confirmed his suspicions that it had been going on for a while. Moreover, this Riley chap was a part of the government program operating in Sunnydale. It didn’t sit well with him at all. He was simply grateful that Riley hadn’t recognized Spike, because that could have been quite bad.

 

Having Spike around had helped to keep his mind off of his own boredom, but Spike was spending a great deal of time at the gallery. Of course, Giles thought it was wonderful that Spike had been able to get a job and hopefully become a productive member of society, but—

 

But Spike had been his special project. Now he was at loose ends again. He’d called in favors and managed to find documentation that would cover the other man. Giles had even begun to re-catalogue his personal files, something that he should have done months ago.

 

It was for all these reasons that he had a drink with Ethan Rayne: the suspicions and fears about the Initiative, his own disenchantment, the desire to spend some time in the company of adults.

 

He never expected to wake up as a demon.

 

~~~~~

 

“William?”

 

Spike woke slowly, with a feeling of not having slept well paired with a rather large knot in his neck. “Huh?”

 

“You know, when I asked you to straighten up the files, I wasn’t expecting you to stay all night.” Joyce stepped back from the desk and put her hands on her hips.

 

Spike picked his head up and stretched fully. “Must have lost track of time,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t planning on spending the night.”

 

“You don’t need to work so hard,” she admonished him.

           

“It’s easier,” he replied, almost shortly. It _was_ easier, oddly enough. He had slept better on the hard desk than he had on Giles’ couch, comfortable as it was. The comfort of exhaustion, he supposed.

 

Joyce’s eyes softened at that. “Fine, Spike. But go home.”

 

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted him. “I’m serious. Go home, get something to eat, get some rest. You can come back tomorrow.”

 

“Are you certain?” he asked. “If you need me, I can come back later.”

           

“Go,” Joyce responded more firmly yet. When he stood reluctantly, she gave him a gentle shove towards the door. “Go do something fun.”

 

Spike thought of Laura’s phone number, still tucked away in his pocket. Perhaps she was in the mood for a cup of coffee. “Alright then,” he said, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mum.”

 

Spike paused at the door to Giles’ apartment, feeling a mixture of guilt and alarm. Guilt because he hadn’t called or left a note to let Giles know where he was. Alarm because the door was slightly open, and that was never a good sign.

 

He entered slowly, tension settling in his muscles, a familiar sensation. It was the zinging of the blood that pumped, like right before he’d go on the hunt, or make a spectacular kill. Spike looked around the living room, noting the broken phone. The banister had been broken as well, and there was a hole in the wall that hadn’t been there the day before.

 

Guilt flared again as he realized that he hadn’t been there for whatever had happened to the Watcher. Maybe he wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but he could have tried. Spike rubbed a hand over his face and then looked over at the demolished phone. It looked like he would have to find help the old fashioned way.

 

He was just locking up when he heard someone calling him. “Spike!” He turned to see Willow, Buffy, Xander and Anya coming through the courtyard. “Is Giles home?” Willow asked.

 

Spike shook his head, the grim look on his face making the Slayer and her friends falter. “Was looking for you,” he replied. “Rupert’s missing.”

 

“Missing?” Buffy demanded. “Are you sure?”

 

Spike unlocked the door and waved the others inside. “When I got in this morning, Rupert wasn’t here and the place was a mess. Phone was demolished, and the banister was broken.”

 

“I think it ate him up,” Anya stated, picking up a torn shirt from the floor.

 

Buffy frowned. “Wait a minute, Spike. When was the last time you saw Giles?”

 

Spike ran a hand through his hair. “Yesterday morning, before I left for the gallery.”

 

“You didn’t come back last night?” Buffy asked. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Really, it shouldn’t matter at all. This was Spike, after all. But for some, strange reason, she cared. At least a little.

 

He looked sheepish. “I was going over the books and lost track of time,” he confessed. “Your mum found me this morning. Probably a good thing I’d already locked up.”

 

Buffy felt a surge of relief, though she couldn’t have said why. “Okay. It looks like the same demon that paid a visit to Xander was here too. We’ll just have to figure out what kind of demon it was and kill it.”

 

They were still looking through books a few hours later with the same lack of luck. Willow held out one book to Xander who gave her a look. “Okay, that’s a giant vulture. I would have mentioned it if it was a giant vulture.”

 

Spike slammed his book shut. “We’re not getting anywhere,” he complained.

 

“Keep looking,” Buffy snapped.

 

Spike stood up, looking sullen. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced. “Been in these bloody clothes all day.” He stomped off, and Buffy glared at his back as he walked away.

 

“Stupid, stubborn—”

 

“Buffy,” Willow murmured. “Spike cares too.”

 

Buffy looked at her, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a sound from outside. She swung the door open to find Riley. “Riley?”

 

Spike pulled on a pair of blue jeans and a red t-shirt. He was angry. He was more than angry, actually. What were they thinking? Just sitting around, doing nothing, when who knows what was happening to Giles. He needed to do something.

 

He froze when he came out of the bathroom. Buffy’s soldier-boy was standing there, and for one second Spike feared that they had come for him. He forced himself to relax even as Buffy turned to look at him. “Riley and I are going to go see what we can find,” she announced. “Willow’s going to go back to the dorm, and Xander and Anya are going back to his place. Just in case Giles or the demon shows up.”

 

“And what about me?” Spike asked, with a sardonic tilt of his eyebrow.

 

“You stay here,” Buffy ordered. “Just in case Giles or the demon comes back. We’ll call if we hear anything.”

 

“Right,” Spike said, looking towards the remains of the phone. “That’ll work.”

 

Buffy matched his look with one of her own. “Fine, Spike. We’ll come by. Return—” she paused, suddenly remembering the cover story for their audience. “—your uncle safe and sound.”

 

Spike watched as they all trooped out, waiting for a full ten minutes until he was certain they were long gone. He grabbed his jacket, another Tara-special from the sales’ rack, and then realized that he would need weapons. At least one, if not more.

 

He rummaged through Giles’ weapons trunk, snatching a stake and shoving it into his waistband. Spike found a small ax and picked it up, finding his grip easily enough. It felt both old and new, and he felt a dawning anticipation that only a good hunt can give. He was off to find himself a Watcher.

 

Anticipation slowly gave way to anxiety as Spike wandered the streets and cemeteries, however. He had no idea what exactly he was looking for, but he certainly wasn’t going to stay inside waiting for Buffy. He _owed_ Giles. Owed him everything. He heard fumbling and banging, as well as some muttered words in—Fyarl?

 

“You can come out and not get beat, or I can come find you,” Spike threatened, knowing that it was probably an empty promise.

 

“Spike?” The Fyarl came out from behind a mausoleum. Spike would have known something was up immediately if only for the fact that the demon was wearing pants and a flannel blanket. “Please, don’t be afraid. I know that—”

 

“Rupert? What the bloody hell happened to you?” Spike demanded. “Come over all demon this morning?”

           

Giles, now Fyarl, stared at him. “You understand me?”

 

“Yeah,” Spike replied. “You’re speaking Fyarl. I speak Fyarl. Actually, I understand it. It’s absolutely impossible to get your tongue around the gutturals if you’re human. Not that you have to worry about that anymore.”

 

“Spike!” Giles glared at him. Spike had to say that he was definitely scarier when he was green. “We have to fix this.”

 

Spike shook himself out of his bemusement. “Right. You know what did this then?”

 

Giles shook his horned head. “No, not exactly. But I certainly know who.”

 

Spike nodded, and then with a sinking feeling remembered Buffy and her soldier-boy. “We should find the Slayer,” he said slowly. “Her boyfriend’s got the Initiative out looking for you in force.”

 

Giles shook his head. “No. I will get myself out of this mess. There’s no need for Buffy to ever  know.” He gave Spike a hard look, and he shrugged.

 

“Fine, but let’s get somewhere we’re not as visible,” Spike muttered. “Last thing we need right now are soldiers on our heels.”

 

The first place they headed, tucked neatly inside Giles’ old Citroen, was the bar he and Ethan had patronized the night before. (There was one quick stop to allow Giles to terrorize a middle-aged woman. Spike made a note to himself to ask for the back-story at a later date when there was more time.) They might have taken Spike’s Desoto, but it was low on gas, and Spike wanted to be ready for anything. Anything included risking Giles’ car and not his own, as he wanted to have the freedom to ditch the car to save their skins if need be.

 

Charming the waitress at the bar was easy enough. An easy grin and a twenty persuaded the woman to tell him that the slippery magician was ensconced at the Sunnydale Motor Inn. It should have been the work of a few moments to drive over and watch Fyarl-Giles beat the bloody hell out of Rayne. Unfortunately, the Initiative had spotted them at some point, and Spike was hard-pressed to shake their tail. The grinding gears of the ancient car weren’t helping either.

 

“I thought you told me you knew how to drive a manual transmission,” Giles accused, growling as the gears made a rough barking noise. “If you can’t find third, don’t try for it!”

 

Spike was concentrating too hard on driving to give Giles the glare he deserved. “I do bloody well know how to drive a stick,” he replied angrily, fear and adrenaline making him short. “If you had a real sodding car, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

 

“This car is perfectly serviceable.”

 

Spike snorted. “Funny hearing that word coming out of a Fyarl’s mouth,” he said, checking the rear-view again for the location of the Humvees. “They’re usually all ‘crush, kill, destroy.’ Not big on brains, but good in a fight.” The headlights were gaining on them. “Which we might be facing here in a minute.” He was trying to force down the fear. At this point, of course, Giles was in more danger from the soldiers than he was. At least he could pass for human, but the other man was bound to be on their “shoot first, ask questions later” list.

 

“This isn’t working,” he stated abruptly.

 

Giles growled at him. “We have to find Rayne,” he said, his voice even more gruff. “I’m going to rip his arms off when I find him.”

 

“That sounds like a Fyarl,” Spike muttered. Looking back over his shoulder, he cursed his bad luck to be in a tin can of a car. He might have tried playing chicken, but the military tanks behind him would run right over them without a second thought. And his frail, mortal body wouldn’t take that kind of punishment. That left precisely one option.

 

“You’re going to have to jump,” he said. “Head to the hotel, I’ll meet you there, soon’s I can. Just got to ditch the military boys.”

 

Even through the fog of blood lust that was starting to permeate his brain, Giles realized how much it took for Spike to make the offer of being bait. Without Spike to run interference, Giles knew he had little chance of making it to the motel to find Rayne. “I’ll owe you.”

 

“We’ll be even,” Spike corrected him. “When I say, you jump.” Thinking quickly, he jerked the steering wheel to the left, sending the Citroen careening around the corner. The larger Humvee struggled to keep up, fishtailing as they tried to make the turn. “Now!”

 

He watched as Giles rolled out the passenger door. The forward velocity caused the door to swing shut and half-latch as the chase continued. But Spike had seen a Fyarl-shaped shadow lurch away, and he gave a sigh of relief. Giles would be safe for the time being. Now he just needed to ditch his hunters.

 

Spike swung the car around another corner, cursing when they still followed. This was getting bloody ridiculous. He didn’t trust them enough to stop the car and ask why they were following him. It would be just his luck that one of them would recognize the Initiative’s pet lab rat, and then where would he be?

 

He sped by a park, and then got an idea. Spike needed to leave the soldiers behind, and to do that, he needed to do something unexpected, then ditch the car. What better way to do that than take the vehicle off-roading?

 

Spike was surprised when the little car obediently went up and over the sidewalk. He was even more surprised at how well it handled as he drove over the well-manicured park, around the merry-go-round, and towards a small stand of trees. Thanking whatever power it might be that looked over ex-vampires, he gave the car a little more gas and aimed it towards the trunk of a large oak.

 

Then, with a deep breath, and a muttered oath, he tumbled himself out of the door, rolling as best he could with the impact. Spike didn’t give himself any time to breathe or recover; he simply ran for the Sunnydale Motor Inn with every ounce of speed he had.

 

There was something to be said for running. Spike might have stopped to appreciate it if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. The rhythm of his footfalls, the feel of blood pumping through his veins, the surge of adrenalin that came as he reached his second wind—it was like being on the hunt again. No guilt there though, only the feeling of movement, of scenes flashing by. His lungs, miraculously enough, were free of tobacco, even after a century of smoking. Spike was breathing heavily, but it felt good, cleansing.

 

Or, at least it would have if he weren’t so desperate to get to Giles in time. Any number of things could happen before he reached the hotel—Ethan might escape, Giles might kill him before effecting the change, the soldiers might catch up to the both of them.

 

It turned out his fears were well founded. Spike skidded to a stop at the door of the hotel room only to glimpse Buffy holding a silver letter-opener above Giles’ chest. “Slayer! No!” he cried out. He watched in horror as she plunged the knife down anyway, only to see it stop, hovering mere millimeters from Giles’ chest.

 

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Giles?” she whispered, horrified at what she’d almost done. Quickly scrambling off his chest, she tossed the letter-opener away hurriedly. “Are you okay?”

 

The Fyarl muttered something she couldn’t understand, and Buffy turned to see Spike standing in the doorway, bent over, hands on knees, trying to get his breath back. “Might want to call off the troops, Slayer,” he said between gasps.

 

Riley pulled out a cell phone, still watching a disappointed Ethan Rayne warily. “I’m on it.”

 

Buffy looked over at Spike. “How did you know it was Giles?”

 

“I speak Fyarl,” he replied, slightly bemused. “But how did you?”

 

Buffy glanced over at Fyarl-Giles with a look of affection. “Only Giles can ever give me _that_ look.” She turned to Rayne, her eyes going diamond-hard. “Fix it. Now.”

 

An amazingly short time later, considering all the damage that had been done, Giles was back to his normal self. Although, Spike mused as he watched, Ethan’s clothing did not suit him at all. The silk shirt he was pulling on was particularly hideous.

 

It looked to Spike as though the Slayer and Giles were renewing their bond, which was at it should be. Giles had been feeling left out. “We can give you a ride back to your place,” Riley offered.

 

Giles and Spike shared a look, equally uncomfortable with placing themselves at the mercy of the Initiative. Sure, Riley seemed nice enough, but neither was ready to trust him or the organization he was working for, even to accept a ride home.

 

“Thank you, Riley, but I think I’d like to walk,” Giles said with dignity. “It really is a rather nice evening.”

 

There were protests that it wasn’t safe for either of them to be out at night, on their own, but they were fairly weak and easily ignored. As they exited the motel room, Giles threw a look over at Spike. “Dare I ask what happened to my car?”

 

Spike sighed. He had been half-hoping that Giles would just forget about it but knew the chances of that weren’t good. “I can show you.”

 

They walked to where Spike had left the car in silence, both of them deep in thought, reflecting on the near-misses each had had. The sight of the Citroen, its remains wrapped around a tree, gave Giles even more to think about. Spike had risked his skin playing bait for the soldiers in order to save his life. And when Giles thought about what he knew of Spike’s experience with the Initiative, he had to marvel at the fact that Spike would risk getting tangled up with them again at all.

 

Looking at the totaled vehicle, there were a thousand things Giles could say. Not for the first time since Spike had shown up on his doorstep, he wished he could be more expressive, wished he could say what he felt. But it was too late to teach an old dog new tricks now. If Buffy hadn’t changed him, Spike certainly wouldn’t. “It’s a miracle you’re even alive,” he finally stated.

 

Spike relaxed next to Giles. He’d been afraid that the other man would take the car’s destruction out of his hide. Not that he was afraid of Giles, but he didn’t relish seeing disappointment in his eyes. He finally met hazel eyes with his blue ones and smiled, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully. “Who was that woman you had to chase down?”

 

Giles’ lips formed a smile that was more than a little reminiscent of Ripper. “Maggie Walsh.” At Spike’s look of vague recognition, he continued his explanation. “That—harridan runs the Initiative.”

 

Spike stiffened and his eyes flashed an unholy fire. Giles was thankful that Spike hadn’t known her identity while he’d been behind the wheel of the car; he had no doubt but that she’d be flattened otherwise. “You sure you’re not still feeling a little Fyarl in you?” he almost begged. “We could still chase her down an’ rip her arms off.”

 

Giles passed off the strong temptation as a leftover bit from Ethan’s spell. “Tempting, but no. You’ll have to settle for a strong hatred, I’m afraid.”

 

Spike sighed. “Too bad I didn’t know before,” he muttered, confirming Giles’ opinion. “You sure you don’t know where she lives?”

 

Feeling the need to get Spike’s mind onto different things, Giles suggested, “Do you want a drink? I could certainly stand one, though I certainly will not be drinking with someone I do not trust again.”

 

The implication was clear, and Spike gaped at him for a moment. It wasn’t that he thought himself untrustworthy, it was just that it was the first time someone had suggested that he was a friend. The idea that Giles might be keeping him around, helping him, for a reason other than pity took root and began to grow in that instant.

 

Shrugging it off, Spike smiled. “Only if you’ll put one of your records on.”

 

“Have you been snooping in my collection?” Giles turned from the wreckage, grasping Spike’s shoulder in a firm grip.

 

“A bit. It’s a bloody good one. I was surprised you even knew what good music was. Figured tweed pants didn’t allow a bloke to fully appreciate the beauty of rock ‘n roll.”

 

Giles tried to be offended, but couldn’t quite manage it. It was nice to joke with someone like this. It made him feel—wanted. Needed. “I have never worn tweed pants,” he corrected. “I’ll have you know I am quite hip in my own way.”

 

“Sure, grandpa,” Spike smirked.

 

“This from a man born before the turn of the century.”

 

“Unlike some people, I don’t look my age.”

 

Eyes met, and twin grins formed. “Pillock.”

 

“Wanker.”

 

It is an odd fact, but sometimes the greatest happiness can be found in insults. Sometimes, it’s a different way of saying “I love you.”


	6. Touching

“…Then the mountain rose before me/By the deep well of desire/From the fountain of forgiveness/Beyond the ice and the fire…Though we share this humble path, alone/How fragile is the heart/Oh give these clay feet wings to fly/To touch the face of the stars/Breathe life into this feeble heart/Lift this mortal veil of fear/Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears/We’ll rise above these earthly cares./Case your eyes on the ocean/Cast your soul to the sea/When the dark night seems endless/Please remember me.” ~Loreena McKennitt, “Dante’s Prayer”

 

Buffy stood across the street from her mother’s art gallery, uncharacteristically hesitant. She hated admitting she was wrong, and she disliked apologies on principle. Not that she thought she was _always_ right, just that she didn’t like being wrong. And now she was. Wrong, that is.

 

She owed Spike an apology, dammit.

 

Buffy watched as her mom walked out of the gallery. It was about lunchtime, so she assumed Joyce was getting something to eat. If she was going to have to say she was sorry, she wanted to do it privately.

 

Taking a deep breath, Buffy headed across the street, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. The door jingled as she pushed it open, and a deep voice called from the back, “Be right with you.”

 

Spike came out of the back room a few moments later, brushing his hands off. He was wearing black slacks and a deep burgundy shirt. Buffy couldn’t help but notice how nicely he cleaned up. He’d looked great at her birthday party too, as she remembered. And even better in the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn while rescuing Giles. She resolutely pushed the thoughts aside. She had a boyfriend, who was also a cutie. Maybe it wasn’t wrong to notice, but she certainly shouldn’t be dwelling.

 

He froze for a second when he saw who it was, tensing up as though waiting for a blow. His expression brought on a new wave of guilt for Buffy. She really had treated him like crap. “Your mum just stepped out,” he said carefully. “She’ll be back in a bit, maybe an hour or so.”

 

“Actually, I came to see you,” Buffy admitted.

 

If anything, Spike grew even more wary. “What can I do for you, Buffy?” His words were polite enough, but he was obviously not happy to have her there.

 

Buffy braced herself. “I came to apologize.”

 

Spike stared at her. “What?”

 

“I came to apologize,” she repeated. Buffy decided the best way to get it over with was just to plunge in and say it. “I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry.”

 

He seemed to relax slightly as he realized that she was sincere. “What brought this on?” There was a slight note of suspicion in his words, and Buffy struggled not to take offense. She had come here to be nice after all. No point in getting angry that he didn’t trust her.

 

“Willow pointed out that I was vying for the Miss Cordelia Chase award,” Buffy said truthfully. “And Giles reminded me that you risked your own life to help him.”

 

Giles had been subtler about it than Willow had, Buffy recalled. He had pointed out that Spike, as a human, was one of those innocents she was supposed to be protecting. And her Watcher had also pointed out that one of the things she should be protecting him from was the Initiative, which she was now working with. And she was dating one of them. One might even say she was sleeping with the enemy.

 

Spike’s face closed. “If they put you up to apologizing, you can save it,” he said almost harshly. “Don’t need that from you.”

 

“They didn’t put me up to anything,” she quickly replied. “They don’t even know I’m doing this.” She was about to say more, but the doorbell jingled behind her, and Spike’s eyes went over her shoulder to the person who’d just entered.

 

“Be right with you,” he called. “Look, Buffy, I have to—”

 

“What time do you get off work?” It suddenly seemed imperative that she smooth things over between the two of them. He had helped save Giles. Buffy _owed_ him, big-time.

 

“Huh?”

 

“What time do you get off work?” she asked again, moving closer so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. “We can go get coffee or something.”

 

Spike stared at her, measuring her, and Buffy wondered if those blue eyes could see into her soul. Whatever he saw seemed to help him make a decision. “Eight. When the gallery closes.”

 

She smiled at him. “I’ll see you then.” The Slayer turned and walked out the door, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she realized she’d accomplished what she came for. She had apologized to Spike and the world hadn’t ended.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike locked up the gallery with a feeling of trepidation. He couldn’t help but feel that the Slayer had an ulterior motive for being so friendly. Once the keys were tucked safely away in his pocket, he turned to look at Buffy, who was leaning against the side of the building, waiting patiently for him. That was certainly a nice change.

 

“You ready?” she asked.

 

Spike wasn’t certain that he was, but he nodded anyway. He got the oddest feeling around her, a mixture of admiration and something else to which he couldn’t put a name. The admiration was nothing new; from the very beginning, seeing her that night in the Bronze, watching her move, he had admired her. Buffy, of all the Slayers he had seen, and there had been more than the two he’d killed, had the most passion, the most fire. She broke all the rules, and he loved that about her.

 

Not to mention that she was sexy as hell.

 

But she was the Slayer, she had been his enemy, and he had tried to kill her more times than he could count. Besides that, she was dating one of those Initiative soldiers. Spike had no business thinking about her at all; it was too dangerous. Dangerous to his sanity and potentially fatal for his health.

 

Yet he followed her as she led the way to the coffee shop, and he recognized in himself the faint stirrings of passion—so familiar. Spike had never been able to nip those feelings in the bud before; he had little hope of being able to do so now. What had his passion ever given him except heartache, he wondered.

 

A feeling of melancholy stole over him as he watched her walk, the grace of her movements, and with every step her words, and the words of another, seemed to echo in his ears. “You’re beneath me.” Nothing had changed—it never would.

 

It was in this glum mood that Spike sat down across from Buffy at one of the Espresso Pump’s small, round tables. “Hot chocolate okay, or do you want something else?” Buffy asked cheerfully.

 

“What now?” he replied, half-lost in his own thoughts.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Spike,” she said, then remembered she was supposed to be nice. “Do you want hot chocolate, or do you have another request?”

 

Spike shook himself out of his stupor and half stood, reaching for his wallet. “I can get it.”

 

Buffy waved him back down. “Don’t be stupid, it’s my treat. Trust me, I don’t do this very often, so enjoy it while you can.”

 

Spike almost smiled at that. “Right. Hot chocolate’s fine.”

 

Buffy returned a few minutes later with both their drinks, setting Spike’s down in front of him with a little flourish. “No little marshmallows, but I had them put the whipped cream on.”

 

“It’s perfect,” he replied, taking a sip. After a pause, he asked cautiously, “What is this, Buffy?”

 

Buffy bit her lip and flushed a little. “I meant what I said before, Spike. About being sorry, and that nobody asked me to apologize. I just—I just wanted to get things right between us.”

 

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “I did horrible things to you,” he replied in a low voice. “Hardly think you’re the one needing to apologize here.”

 

“You helped save Giles the other night,” Buffy said, her voice equally quiet, just as serious. “You were worried that I was going to give you away the other night, at my party.”

 

The guilt that hid just below the surface peeked out of his eyes. “You’d have reason.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t, and I’m sorry if I made you think I’d do that.”

 

He met her eyes for the first time and then slowly nodded. “So. We’re good then.”

 

“We’re good,” she agreed. “Can I ask you a question?” Spike just looked at her, waiting. “What do you miss most about being a vampire?”

 

Spike gave a short laugh, still not quite sure what she wanted from him. “Vampires are evil, remember? Why should I miss it?”

 

Buffy stared down at the cup in front of her, realizing that she may have missed the window of opportunity for them to be more than polite with each other. Spike didn’t trust her; maybe he never would. But Buffy kept remembering Willow’s words, remembered Giles’ observation that Spike was adjusting, but it was difficult. She remembered all too well what it was like to finally find herself un-Chosen, to question what made her special if she wasn’t the Slayer.

 

“I lost my Slayer powers last year,” she finally confessed in a low voice. Buffy looked up to see how Spike would react and was rewarded by a surprised look and his obvious attention.

 

“What happened then?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “The Council has some wacky tradition of taking away a Slayer’s powers on her eighteenth birthday. Giles gave me these shots, and suddenly I had no strength, no coordination, nothing. The plan was to lock me in a house with a crazed vampire and see if I survived.”

 

“That’s bloody barbaric!” Spike sputtered. Buffy was actually kind of touched by the raw anger in his eyes. “Too bad I wasn’t around, I’d’ve ripped the wankers’ throats out.”

 

Surprisingly enough, Buffy was still touched, even after that rather graphic description. Honestly, she wasn’t all that sure she would have stopped him from killing Quentin Travers. Okay, she probably would have stopped him, but the idea was tempting. “Trust me, I had the same feelings.”

 

Spike smiled a little bit at that. “So what happened next?” he asked, pulled into the story in spite of himself and his desire to remain aloof.

 

“The insane-o vampire escaped, grabbed my mom, Giles told me what the deal was, and I rescued her.” Buffy looked at him, growing serious. “The point is that even though I hate being the Slayer a lot of the time, even though it’s going to get me killed one of these days, I had a hard time figuring out who I was if I _wasn’t_ the Slayer.”

 

Spike stared at her, wariness starting to dissolve. Maybe she did understand after all. “But you were still the Slayer.”

 

“Yeah, I was,” Buffy replied. “Even if I never got my powers back, I still would have been the Slayer.”

 

He reflected on that for a minute, sipping his hot chocolate. “What do I miss most?” he asked, repeating her question, more for his own benefit than hers. “I miss—I miss how easy it was.”

 

Buffy didn’t say anything, waiting to see where he would go with it. “I was—I was pretty pathetic before I was turned. Decent enough bloke, I suppose. A good man, and all that, but nothing special.” Spike took a deep, needed breath. “And then there I was, a vampire. Top of the food chain, powerful, feared. Spent over a hundred years building that reputation.”

 

Spike met her eyes and his gaze gripped her tightly. “I wasn’t scared of anything except losing Dru.” His voice was low, intense. “Didn’t have to worry about money, or friends, or anything but taking what I wanted. And they changed all that overnight. Those bloody soldiers took it all from me.”

 

Buffy suddenly understood. It wasn’t just about “humans good, vampires bad.” Though most of the time, that was true. What she did every night, she did because it was her sacred duty. She protected the innocent, and the not-so-innocent. She killed demons, but she did it in a fair fight, on their turf, and she did it to protect her own. If she had staked Spike, when he was a vampire, that would have been the right thing to do. But the experiments, the poking and prodding, the messing around just because—it wasn’t right. If she had killed Spike, he probably would have been honored by having been taken out by the Slayer.

 

And yet she couldn’t be sorry that Spike was human, because now that she was actually getting a chance to talk to him, he was a pretty decent guy.

 

“What’s the best thing about being human?” she asked, half-wanting to know if he was going to try and get himself turned again.

 

As though reading her mind, Spike replied, “You’re asking why I haven’t tried getting bit again?” He looked off into the distance. “Couldn’t do that, Buffy. I wouldn’t turn a monster loose on the world again. I’d die permanently first, I would.”

 

There was a pause, and then he smiled at her. “Sunshine. That’s the best part of being human.” His grin suddenly split his face. “Well, that and the food. Can’t taste as much as a vampire. It’s bloody brilliant, really.”

 

Buffy couldn’t help but grin back. “I’d appreciate you not getting yourself undead again. I don’t like staking my friends.”

 

Spike’s grin turned almost shy. “Give it my best shot,” he promised.

 

Their eyes met and a bridge was built, touching without touching. Buffy’s words shattered it in the next minute. “I’m beginning to think getting involved with the Initiative at all was a mistake. I thought we were on the same side, but now—”

 

Spike’s face froze. “What are you saying?”

 

Buffy immediately realized her mistake. “Spike, I—”

 

He stood abruptly. “You’re working with them,” he accused. “You’re not just dating one of them, you’re working with them. You _know_ what they did to me.” Leaving his mostly-empty cup behind, he strode out of the café, not even looking behind him.

 

“Spike!” Buffy called out after him. “Dammit. Good going, Buffy,” she muttered, picking up their empty containers and chucking them as she followed Spike out. “Tell the ex-vampire that you’re working for the organization that tortured him. That’s really friendly.”  


She hurried to catch up, grabbing him by the arm when she did. “Spike.”

 

“Let go, Slayer.” He looked dangerous, suddenly. Buffy hadn’t thought of him as dangerous since before she’d put him in a wheelchair. It was hard to think of a person as really scary when you caught them crying over hot chocolate with your mother.

 

Buffy could see the fear buried behind the anger, however, and she knew what was causing it. Fear of being taken again, fear of being used, fear of being handed over to the enemy. And why wouldn’t he be afraid? The enemy was her boyfriend in this case. “They aren’t going to get you,” she promised him.

 

He stared at her, trying to look away, but she gripped his arm harder, shaking him to force him to look at her. “They won’t get you. I swear it. You’re one of the people I protect, Spike, even from the government.”

 

“You swear?”

 

He was so vulnerable in that moment, Buffy wouldn’t have said no even if she’d wanted to. Of course, she really didn’t want to. “I swear,” she repeated. “Even if they get you, I’ll get you out.”

 

Spike moved his other hand to rest over hers. “Alright then, luv.”

 

The moment was electric—and Buffy didn’t want it to end. “I’ll walk you back to Giles’.”

 

They did not touch as they walked, and yet Spike could feel her more surely than if they had. He had a hyper-awareness around her that emerged with no one else. No words were spoken; there didn’t seem to be any more to say to one another. Giles’ apartment building loomed in front of them, but Buffy walked him right up to the door.

 

Blue eyes met green as they both tried to figure out what to say. Buffy reached out and grabbed Spike’s hand. “Hang in there, huh?”

 

Spike stared after her, seeing her brilliant smile minutes after she’d left. Groaning, he thumped his forehead gently against the door. “I’m a bloody pathetic git,” he mumbled.

 

“Are you just now figuring that out? Because I’ve known it for a while now.” Giles’ dry voice came from behind him.

 

Spike didn’t bother answering; he just took the keys from his pocket and opened the door, wordlessly letting the other man precede him. Giles reached out and gripped his shoulder. “She does have that effect, doesn’t she?” he asked gently. “One can’t help but love her.”

 

There was no argument Spike could make to that observation.

 

~~~~~

 

“So, what were you up to last night?” Riley asked casually.

 

He and Buffy were walking side by side through the campus. She shrugged in response. “Not much. Just went out with a friend.”

 

“A friend, huh?”

 

From his tone, Buffy knew something was up. She turned and looked him. “Yeah, a friend. William, Giles’ nephew. You met him at my birthday party.” At the look in Riley’s eyes, Buffy rolled hers. “Come on, Riley. He’s going through a rough time right now, I thought I might be able to cheer him up.”

 

“One of the guys saw you cheering him up, Buffy, and he said you two were looking pretty cozy.”

 

Buffy did not appreciate the accusation in Riley’s tone. Sure, she’d noticed Spike, but she hadn’t dwelt. She certainly hadn’t done anything inappropriate. “Riley, William and I have known each other since I was in high school. We pretty much hated each other, but now he’s going through a lot of changes. I wanted to clear the air.”

 

Riley looked chagrined. “I’m sorry, Buffy. It’s just that Forrest saw you, and—”

 

“And you thought you’d ask,” Buffy retorted. “It’s okay. But you’re my boyfriend. I don’t cheat on my boyfriends.”

 

“Sorry,” he apologized again. Then, deciding it was a good time to change the subject, he asked, “Are you ready for the training exercise tonight?”

 

“Am I ready to kick some Initiative butt?” Buffy replied cheerfully. “Always.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was stretched out on Giles’ couch when there was a brief knock on the door before Xander wandered in. “Giles here?” the younger man asked.

 

“No. Wasn’t here when I got off tonight.” Spike was perusing a book of poetry that Joyce had lent him. He glanced up to see Xander standing awkwardly in the entrance way, hands in his pocket. “Where’s your girl?”

 

“She went shopping.” The two exchanged identical looks of distaste.

 

“Red?”

 

“Studying.”

 

“So what are you doing here?”

 

Xander sat on the chair next to the couch. “I really didn’t want to stay in the basement tonight.” There was a beat. “You hungry?”

 

Spike gave him a measuring look. “I’m thinking spicy wings and a blooming onion.”

 

Thirty minutes later, Spike and Xander were shooting pool and munching on buffalo wings and a blooming onion. The talk mostly centered around Anya, Xander’s frustrations at his job site, and both their frustrations with not having a place to call their own.

 

Xander looked over at Spike speculatively. “You don’t think we should get a place together, do you?”

 

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. “Don’t know,” he replied. They each considered the thought, and then came to the same conclusion: it would never work.

 

“Never mind,” Xander said quickly, thinking of having Spike around while he was enjoying Anya’s company.

 

“Yeah,” Spike agreed, thinking of exactly the same thing. He had no desire to be around while someone else was shagging, especially if he wasn’t getting any. “Nice thought though.”  


“Yeah. If things were different.”

 

“Sure.”

 

They stared at one another over the pool table. “Are we bonding?” Xander asked suddenly.

 

Spike shrugged. “Blokes have to stick together with all the women running around.”

 

The other man nodded, accepting that explanation. It made perfect sense to him; he hated being the only guy sometimes. There were moments when he missed Oz’s company with a painful certainty. Playing pool with Spike helped to take off the edge. Xander glanced at his watch and winced. “I’ve got to go. It’s late.”

 

Spike nodded. “I’m a bit knackered, myself,” he admitted. He turned to put his pool cue in the rack and froze.

 

“Spike?” Xander followed Spike’s gaze to a meaty looking young man only a few years older than him. The other man was looking at Spike with dawning recognition. “Spike.”

 

“It’s one of them,” Spike whispered. The color had drained from his face.

 

Xander didn’t bother asking who “they” were; he already had a pretty good idea. But being with the Scoobies had taught him to think on his feet, and he threw an arm around Spike’s shoulders. “Come on, Will,” he said loudly, feigning drunkenness. (He’d seen his relatives intoxicated often enough that it was an easy role.) “It’s getting late.”

 

Spike seemed to snap out of it enough to pick up on what Xander was trying to do. “Right, mate,” he replied, plastering an amused smile on his face. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Giles had been asleep when they got back to the apartment, but they woke him up to tell him what had happened. “Are you sure he recognized you?” Giles asked, slightly miffed that he’d been dragged out of bed, but trying to hide it.

 

“He’s one of the soldiers I knocked out.” Spike’s head was in his hands, and his voice was muffled. “Probably hard to forget.”

 

“There was definitely recognition there,” Xander agreed. “I doubt he would have been able to do anything at the Bronze though.”

 

“Yes, well, now the Initiative knows that Spike is still in Sunnydale,” Giles said grimly. “They might try to come after him while he’s alone.”

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

Giles spared Spike a sympathetic look. “These may help,” he said, pulling an envelope out of a desk drawer. “These and not going out by yourself anymore.” His tone was apologetic. “I’m sorry, Spike, but I really think it wise if you have someone with you at all times. I have a feeling they will want to keep their activities private, and they most likely won’t try to grab you in company.”

 

Spike took the envelope with a pained nod. “So, you’re saying not to go out without a babysitter.” He sighed and emptied the contents into his lap, letting out a low whistle. “Bloody hell,” he repeated, reverently this time.

 

“Holy forged documents, G-Man,” Xander joked as he saw what Spike had.

 

“Technically speaking, they are not forged,” Giles replied rather smugly.

 

Xander gave him a skeptical look as Spike started poring over the various bits of paper. “Spike’s been dead for a while, Giles. How could they not be forged?”

 

The Watcher smiled. “There were a few people who owed me favors. I called them in. Spike, or rather, William, is my cousin.”

 

“I thought we were telling everyone that he was your nephew,” Xander protested.

 

Giles shrugged. “I doubt anyone is going to look at the particulars too closely. Besides, given the differences in our ages, and the complicated family tree, it isn’t so unusual that we might simplify the relationship that way. Quite frankly, I didn’t have any siblings, but I do have a few cousins scattered about. William’s parents are deceased, so they cannot very well argue about the altered records.”

 

“These are bloody marvelous,” Spike finally said. “No one’d ever guess they weren’t the real thing.”

 

“That’s because they are. As I said, someone owed me a favor. This was the payment.”

 

“Must have been some favor,” Xander stated, looking at Giles with new respect. “Do you really think some paperwork will keep Spike safe, though?”

 

Giles looked over at Spike, who looked up to meet his eyes. “In a word, no. Not from the Initiative. The soldiers will not be stopped by identification. Papers will protect you from the regular authorities, however.”

 

Spike nodded. “Joyce’ll be happy to see these. Make me all legal.”

 

“Yes, well, I’m sure. For now, however, I think it might be time to go to bed.” Giles ushered Xander out the door, and then turned back to Spike. “I was serious, Spike. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be out on your own right now.”

 

Spike made a face, but agreed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

 

~~~~~

 

Which was why he was locking up the gallery with a feeling of unease the following evening. He probably should have called someone to walk him back to Giles’ if he was going to avoid the danger of being caught out on his own, but he didn’t want to look like a wuss.

 

He started walking down the street, towards where he’d parked his Desoto a couple blocks away. It turned out to be too far.

 

He felt them before he saw them. Spike glanced back over his shoulder, thinking maybe he could go back into the gallery. Several shadows seemed to detach themselves from the darkness and move towards him. A feeling of panic swept over him, and he started walking faster towards the car. More shadows appeared in front of him, and he looked around wildly for any means of escape.

 

Seeing an alley, he took off running, dodging a couple trashcans and heading straight for the chain link fence that blocked his way. Adrenaline gave him the will and the way to haul himself over, and he had almost made it when he felt something sharp hit him in the shoulder. He held on through sheer will power, refusing to lose his grip, and dropping down on the other side with a thud.

 

And he kept running.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles was pacing the living room anxiously, Xander and Anya watching his movements. “He’s probably fine,” Xander said hopefully. “Maybe he fell asleep at the gallery again.”

 

Giles shook his head. “I called Joyce. The gallery was locked up when she arrived this morning, and Spike was nowhere to be seen. And, he hasn’t showed up there today.”

 

“When was he supposed to be in today?” Xander asked, looking at the box of Boost Bars that was going unnoticed.

 

Whatever Giles might have said was cut off by a thump from upstairs. The three of them looked at one another, concerned. “What was that?” Anya asked. “Did you get a cat? Because in the movies, it’s always the cat that goes thump at inopportune times.”

 

“I did not get a cat,” Giles hissed through his teeth, listening intently as the sound of feet could be heard on the floor, and then on the stairs, before Spike popped into view. “Spike, where have you been? You look—”

 

“Really bad,” Xander finished, getting up so Spike could sit down. He was disheveled, grass and leaves in his hair, his face haggard with exhaustion.

 

“Soldiers were waiting for me when I came out of the gallery last night,” he explained. “They shot me with something. Been trying to lose them all night. Finally managed some time this morning and came back here.” Spike unbuttoned the black shirt he was wearing and then pulled his t-shirt over his head. “Don’t know what they hit me with.”

 

Giles looked at the wound and frowned. “Xander, go into the bathroom and get my first aid kit. It’s under the sink.” A few minutes later, Giles was peering intently at the hole in Spike’s back. Spike grunted in pain as Giles prodded with a latex-covered finger. “It’s not a bullet, and it’s embedded too deeply for a tranquilizer.”

 

Spike grimaced. “Also not tranquil. They’d have had me for sure if it was a dart.”

 

“There’s some sort of illumination emanating from it. It’s blinking,” Giles murmured. “Anya, get the cognac out of the cupboard, please.”

 

“I hope that’s for me,” Spike said fervently.

 

Giles smiled slightly. “Indeed. It’s going to take me some time to get it out, and it would be best if you’re anesthetized.”

 

“We don’t have time,” Xander stated.

 

“What now?” Giles turned to look at him.

 

Xander leaned in closer and shook his head. “We don’t have time. My pseudo-soldier memory bank is telling me that’s a tracer. If the soldier boys are getting a signal, it won’t take them long to get here.”

 

Giles filled a tumbler with the cognac, and handed it to Spike who slammed it back. “Another one, please,” he mumbled, and then slammed the second as well.

 

“We’ll just have to buy some time, then,” Giles said, watching Spike drink. “Because this is going to take a while.”

 

Willow showed up while Giles was still trying to dig the tracer out of Spike’s back. She quickly found a spell that would ionize the atmosphere. Spike had his teeth gritted, but wasn’t making any sound. He hadn’t had any more to drink past the first two glasses, mostly because he wanted to be able to run if the Initiative burst through the door.

 

There was a whoosh and a snap as the spell took effect, but Spike had his eyes shut and didn’t see the Don King look. Giles gritted his teeth and kept digging.

 

“I think the spell’s wearing off,” Willow said nervously after a while, munching on one of the Boost Bars.

 

Giles dug deeper with the tweezers, causing Spike to let out an involuntary yelp. “Got it!” he said excitedly, quickly handing the tweezers and tracer to Xander. “Go!”

 

Xander took off down the hall and a few seconds later they heard the sound of a toilet flushing. “That should take care of the tracer,” Giles stated. “I need to disinfect the wound, however.”

 

Spike groaned. “Bloody hell.”

 

The disinfecting process was as painful as Spike had expected it to be, and once it was over he gratefully pulled on the button-down shirt Willow had found for him. “I hate to say this, Spike, but perhaps it would be better if you left town for a while,” Giles said quietly.

 

Spike let out a humorless laugh. “An’ where am I supposed to go, Rupert?”

 

There was a long silence. “Perhaps Los Angeles,” he finally suggested. “It’s a large enough city that you would be able to disappear. It’s—it certainly isn’t safe for you here.”

 

“It’s not safe for any of us.” All heads turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway, looking grim. “Not anymore.”


	7. So Close (And Yet So Far)

“Beauty queen of only eighteen/She had some trouble with herself/He was always there to help her/She always belonged to someone else./I drove for miles and miles/And wound up at your door/I’ve had you so many times but somehow/I want more./I don’t mind spending every day/Out on your corner in the pouring rain/Look for the girl with the broken smile/ Ask her if she wants to stay awhile/And she will be loved/Tap on my window knock on my door/I want to make you feel beautiful…” ~Maroon 5, “She Will Be Loved”

 

As Buffy finished explaining what had happened down in the sewers, Giles started cleaning his glasses. “Good Lord, Buffy. Are you saying Maggie Walsh set you up?”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Buffy replied grimly. “She knew what she was doing, and she didn’t expect me to make it out of there.”

 

There was a long moment of silence. “Did soldier-boy know about it?” Spike asked in a low voice.

 

Buffy looked around the room at the faces of her friends, all of whom looked to have their doubts about her boyfriend. And why not? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a guy she liked turned out to be evil. “No, I don’t think so. Dr. Walsh made sure he was elsewhere while I was getting sent on a special make-Buffy-dead assignment.”

 

“Riley doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would tell a little lie, let alone a whole lot of big ones,” Willow added.

 

Xander shook his head. “Except that’s why they call them the secret forces, because they’re pretty much keeping a whole bunch of big secrets. Besides,” he added grimly, “if he was out on an assignment this afternoon, there’s a real good chance he was trying to hunt Spike down.”

 

Buffy’s face froze. “Wait a minute. The Initiative’s been hunting you down?” She looked over at Spike. “What happened?”

 

Slowly, he told her, ending with, “And if Rupert hadn’t managed to dig that tracer out of me, I probably would’ve been back in an Initiative holding cell.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “You’re human,” she stated, almost to herself. “They shouldn’t be interested in you anymore.”

 

“I’m their lab rat, and I escaped,” Spike returned. “Of course they want me back.” His tone was bitter.

 

The Slayer frowned. “Well, they’re not getting you. I don’t care what they want. We need to move, though. Everybody grab a weapon.”

 

“Right. Storm the Initiative,” Xander said, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the idea.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of us hiding,” Buffy replied.

 

Giles replaced his glasses. “I think we should talk about this.”

 

“We need to buy some time, and we need to make a plan. That means relocating for a while.” Buffy was thinking rapidly, trying to figure out what her next steps had to be. From thinking she had new allies in her fight against evil, all the way to being hunted—it had been a heck of a day. She spared a glance for Spike, who was looking particularly haggard. It seemed that someone could still beat her for “worst day” award.

 

Willow perked up. “We could go to my place.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “They know we’re close, so they’ll check those places first. Xander, what about your basement?”

 

“Sure. Come boogie in Xander’s basement hideaway,” the young man said with a wry smile.

 

“Yeah, come boogie,” Anya repeated without much enthusiasm.

 

“I will not stay in that dank hole,” Giles protested. “Besides, I don’t see why we have to go anywhere. It’s highly unlikely that any of the Initiative boys will come here.”

 

Because he’d just jinxed them, the door flew open and Riley dashed inside. “Buffy! Are you okay? What happened?” He was at her side in a moment, and Buffy backed away just slightly.

 

“I’m fine, Riley. As for what happened, Maggie tried to kill me.”

 

At her words, the soldier backed off slightly himself. “No, there’s got to be some mistake. Professor Walsh would never—” He broke off to stare at Spike, who was trying to look inconspicuous. “That’s Hostile 17.”

 

“That’s Spike,” Buffy replied. “He has a name. You met him at my birthday party.”

 

Riley frowned. “Buffy, I’m under orders to bring him in. He’s dangerous, and—”

 

“He’s human,” Buffy broke in. “I don’t think he falls under your jurisdiction anymore.”

 

Riley stared at her and took a small step towards Spike. Spike stood and tried to look tough, but a night spent sleepless and running, plus the pain and alcohol, weren’t helping. “I still have orders. Hostile 17 still falls in the H.S.T. category until we can classify him.”

 

“Tough, Riley,” the Slayer said in a hard voice. “I have a sacred duty that includes protecting him. Besides, if the same person who gave you orders to catch him is the same person who just tried to kill me, you might want to rethink following her orders.”

 

“As in, maybe you shouldn’t?” Xander suggested. “You mess with Spike, you mess with all of us. And Buffy’s right. Your boss just tried to turn her into monster food. She doesn’t seem to know which side she’s on these days. Maybe you could explain it to us.”

 

Riley looked confused, as if the mere thought of insubordination was too much for him to handle. “I don’t know much. I wasn’t there,” he protested. “Professor Walsh told me you were dead, and then you came on the monitors. This—this isn’t her. Something must be forcing her, or controlling her.”

 

“We think Buffy might have been getting too close to something,” Giles said gently to the perplexed young man. “Something the Initiative wanted to stay hidden.”

 

“Could it have something to do with 314?” Buffy asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Riley said, truly bewildered.

 

Still gentle, Giles said quietly, “We’ve heard that the Initiative has far darker purposes. Something they would go to great lengths to keep from Buffy. Do you know anything?”

 

“No! I would know!” Riley looked around the room wildly. “It’s not possible.”

 

“Isn’t it?” Spike asked quietly. “They didn’t much want me to escape, and I’m human now.”

 

Riley stared at him. Doubt was threatening to overwhelm him. “No. No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started backing towards the door. “I can’t be here.”

 

“Riley—” Buffy called after him.

 

The soldier shook his head. “No, I’ve got to go.” He threw a last look at Spike. “I’m sorry.”

 

As the door shut behind him, the group let out a collective breath. “We can’t stay here,” Giles stated.

 

“Xander’s basement—” Buffy began.

 

“And why wouldn’t your soldier boy check there, Slayer?” Spike asked quietly. “He knows all your friends, and Harris’ place isn’t that hard to find.” He looked at her intently. “I got a suggestion, somewhere no one would look, but you aren’t going to like it.”

 

They might have argued about it all day, except they didn’t have that much time. “I will not go back to that—place,” Giles said harshly.

 

“We’ve all got bad memories of the mansion, Giles,” Buffy said quietly. When Spike had named the old mansion on Crawford, her first reaction was to reject the idea out of hand. But as he said, it would be impossible to connect it to any of them; Riley didn’t know anything about Angel or Angelus. It was large, slightly furnished, out of the way, and unoccupied. Other than the fact that they all hated the place, it was a perfect hide out.

 

Spike put a tentative hand on Giles’ arm. “Rupert, I don’t much want to go back there myself. But no one’s going to look for us there.”

 

Xander, Willow, and Anya were fairly silent on the deal. While none of them particularly liked the mansion, none of them had the memories that the others did. Giles shook his head, but finally met Spike’s eyes. The regret that he saw reflected there convinced him that Spike was not making the suggestion to hurt him, and that he was not insensitive to his discomfort.

 

“I suppose it’s time I exorcise some demons, then,” Giles finally said. “Spike is right. We will be safe enough there, if not completely comfortable.”

 

“Good,” Buffy said. “Let’s grab what we need then and get over there. No more wasting time.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike sat on the bench in the courtyard, watching the rapidly lightening sky. In spite of his extreme exhaustion, he hadn’t been able to catch more than an hour or so of sleep. It wasn’t the location itself that was throwing him off, but the continual nightmares. The all-too-close call with the Initiative soldiers caused him to see himself back in a holding cell every time he closed his eyes. Well, in a holding cell or strapped down to that metal table. It didn’t much matter which. After falling asleep and being awakened twice by the nightmares, he’d finally given up, coming out to the courtyard to avoid disturbing anyone.

 

Nobody had really wanted to be alone in the big mansion, and so they’d all set up camp in the main living area. Giles had even gone so far as to light a fire in the fireplace to dispel the gloom. It must have worked, because everyone but Spike had been able to sleep, and sleep deeply.

 

The sun lit the sky with pink, red, and orange, and he smiled to see it. Not so long ago, the rising of the sun would have signaled his death. Now, it was one of the few things he actually enjoyed about his new life. The warmth and light also served to chase off some of the fear that had haunted him, and Spike felt fatigue finally begin to overtake him. He stretched out on the bench in the sun, like a big cat, and closed his eyes.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy wandered out into the courtyard and smiled at the sight that greeted her. They had all awoken, slightly stiff and a little cranky, and had immediately noted that Spike was nowhere to be seen. Giles had turned on the small, battery-powered radio he’d brought to catch the news, and Buffy had gone to see about finding Spike. She didn’t think he’d gone far, and she’d been right.

 

No one was terribly excited about the fact that there wasn’t any electricity or running water, but all were hopeful that they could go back to their regularly scheduled lives soon. Looking at Spike, Buffy thought about that, about the fact that he didn’t really have a regularly scheduled life, except for his job at the gallery. Luckily for him, his boss was her mom, which meant she was particularly understanding about things like crazy soldiers hunting ex-demons.

 

Buffy squatted down next to the bench, waking him with a soft touch on his shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

 

Spike’s eyes blinked open slowly. “Buffy?”

 

“That’s right. What are you doing out here?” she asked. “You’ll get a sunburn.”

 

He smiled slightly, still not quite with it. “I had some bad dreams,” he explained. “Must have fallen asleep out here.”

 

“Why don’t you come inside and try to get some sleep in there? It stays pretty dark during the day.” As he sat up, she saw a spreading stain on the back of his t-shirt. “And you need to get that bandage changed. You’re bleeding through.”

 

Spike stood slowly. “Yeah, suppose.” He was still groggy, and followed Buffy inside without argument. He half-listened as Buffy and Giles discussed what she was going to do about the new menace that the Initiative had sent after them, all while she expertly redressed his shoulder.

 

Spike let himself give in to the thought that he was safe while he was with Buffy. She had promised to protect him; she’d told off her boyfriend for him. The memory of her standing up to Riley warmed him, and he let himself fall into a doze even as he relished the feeling of Buffy’s gentle hands bandaging his shoulder.

 

He woke slightly when he felt her pushing him to lie down on the couch. “You should try and get some more sleep.”

 

Spike finally registered that Buffy was dressed to go out. “You leaving?” he mumbled.

 

“Yeah, for a while. I have to track something down.” She touched his cheek in a comforting gesture. “Giles and the others are going to stay here.”

 

He roused himself slightly. “You want some help?”

 

“Not from you. You’re still in pass-out mode.” She smiled at him. “I’ll make sure Mom knows you’re okay.”

 

“Tell her I’ll be in tomorrow,” he mumbled.

 

“Sure thing,” Buffy said. “Sleep.” She watched as he drifted off, the lines in his face smoothing out. The circles under his eyes were so dark, almost as though they were bruised. She turned her head as Giles came up behind her, spreading a blanket over Spike’s still figure.

 

“You’ll research the Polgara demons?” Buffy asked in a soft voice as they moved away from him.

 

Giles nodded. “Of course, Buffy. Be careful.”

 

Buffy glanced back towards Spike. “Giles? Will he be okay?”

 

Giles pulled off his glasses and thought seriously about the question. He had asked himself the same thing a number of times. “In time, I think he might be. It certainly doesn’t help matters any that the Initiative is still chasing him.”

 

Buffy looked grim. “Well, hopefully we can put a stop to all of that. Maybe we’ll all get some peace then.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike woke mid-afternoon, feeling better rested than he had in a long time. Perhaps he had exorcised some demons of his own by managing to outwit and outrun the soldiers. Or perhaps the reassurance of his safety had come when Buffy had sworn her protection and faced down her boyfriend to do it.

 

Imagine his surprise when said girl dragged said boyfriend into the mansion. He stood in surprise, the book he’d been reading to help Giles research dangling limply from his hand. “Buffy? What’s going on?”

 

Giles looked up from his own reading, similar surprise on his own face. While Willow had announced her intent to see what spells she could find to track down the Polgara demon, he had deemed it best to gather what books he could and continue his research at the mansion. It was safer, for one thing, and he wanted to keep an eye on Spike. The young man had had a trying couple of days, and was not looking well.

 

Giles had some fleeting thoughts about Spike’s physical condition. It had not escaped his attention that medicine had changed quite a bit since Spike had been, well, alive, and he might not be current on the vaccinations he needed. While the Initiative might have done something about that while he was under their care, Giles wasn’t ready to take it for granted. On the other hand, it would be rather difficult to explain to a doctor why a 20-something-year-old man needed the kinds of shots given to school children. In any case, he knew that it wasn’t just Spike’s mental condition they had to be concerned about, but his physical condition as well.

 

The last few days certainly hadn’t done that any good.

 

But Spike had seemed to be doing much better when he woke up, and he had willingly offered to help Giles research. He had, in fact, been a much bigger help than anyone except Willow would have been. Giles filed that information away for future reference.

 

When their research was interrupted by Buffy dragging Riley through the door, Giles couldn’t help but feel a surge of protection towards Spike. As much sympathy as he might feel for Riley, he didn’t know the boy all that well. Spike was his main concern at this point, and having the soldier there was neither safe nor conducive to any of their well being.

 

He threw a glance towards Spike, who was staring at Buffy with a look of betrayal on his face. “Buffy—” Giles began.

 

“He’s sick,” the Slayer said, rather unnecessarily, as Riley was shivering and obviously not well. “I think the Initiative’s been doing something to him. I don’t know. Besides, Professor Walsh’s orders aren’t being followed anymore since she’s dead.”

 

Spike looked at Buffy and then at the soldier who’d been trying to recapture him mere hours before. While he felt a small bit of relief that the Professor was dead, that didn’t mean Riley wouldn’t try something anyway. “Do you really think it’s a good idea bringing him here, Slayer?” he asked quietly, not allowing any of the hurt he was feeling to come through in his voice. Or so he hoped.

 

Buffy gave him a pleading look, knowing that in some ways it was up to him if Riley stayed. At least, she wanted him to be somewhat okay with it, even if he wasn’t thrilled. “He needs a safe place to be right now.”

 

“Buffy,” Xander’s voice came from behind her and she turned to look at him. “Riley might not be ready to be here. Not if he has to follow the rules. Like no trying to capture Spike.”

 

Buffy had to wonder where Xander’s interest in Spike’s safety came from. He’d been fairly indifferent up to a couple of days ago, and now he seemed intent on protecting him. “Riley needs help,” she stated firmly. “And I still help people.”

 

There was a long silence, and then Spike let out a deep sigh that everyone in the room heard. “There’s a bedroom down the hall. It’s quiet, and out of the way. He should be all right there for a while. Least as all right as he can be right now.”

 

Spike stood in the doorway and watched as Buffy comforted Riley, much the same way she’d comforted him earlier. He didn’t want Captain America there; he thought it was idiotic to reveal their hiding place to any of the Initiative. But Buffy had said that the good doctor had done something to the soldier-boy too. Riley was sick with something. Somehow, Spike had a hard time actually caring. He thought maybe it was a good thing that the soldier was getting a taste of his own medicine.

 

Buffy gave Riley’s back a final pat and then walked out the door, past Spike. “Coming?”

 

Spike stared at her, and then finally nodded, following her down the hallway towards the main room where everyone else was waiting for them. “Spike.” She put a hand on his arm, stopping him midway. “Thanks.”

 

“For what?” he asked, quietly.

 

She looked away. “For letting Riley stay here. I know it’s probably not easy for you.”

 

“I’m not doing it for him,” Spike said. “You care about him.”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Buffy replied. She looked up into his eyes. In some ways, at that moment, she wished she didn’t care for Riley as much as she did. She wished she hadn’t reached the “hurt when he hurts” stage yet. Because if she didn’t care that much, she might have been interested in Spike. The guy that her mom and all her friends liked. The guy who wasn’t involved with the secret government agency that had tried to kill her. In some ways, caring about Spike would be a whole heck of a lot easier at this point. “I’m sorry I had to bring him here.”  


“It’s fine, Buffy,” Spike sighed. “Don’t think he’s capable of doing much right now. What are you going to do?”

 

“Take Xander and see if we can figure out what the Initiative is up to,” Buffy replied. “We need to find out what they did to him, and what 314 is all about.”

 

Spike swallowed hard. “Do you want me to go?” he offered. “I could probably find my way around again.”

 

She smiled at him, appreciating the bravery his offer represented. “No, not with them still looking for you. I don’t know. Now that Professor Walsh is dead, the danger is probably less for you, but it probably isn’t a good idea. Xander still remembers being a soldier, so he can help.”

 

Spike had his own doubts about that, but didn’t say anything. “Well. Guess Rupert and I will keep looking for that information you need.” He hesitated, and then said in a low voice, “From what we’ve seen, it wasn’t a Polgara demon that killed that boy. They don’t mutilate bodies, and they’re not smart enough to keep a low profile. If Walsh sent something after you, it probably wasn’t a Polgara.”

 

Buffy tried for a smile and didn’t quite manage it. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

 

“Or maybe whatever’s out there’s worse, because it’s smarter.” Spike’s eyes were serious, maybe even a little grim. “Watch your back, pet.”

 

“You too,” Buffy replied, looking back towards the half-open door Riley was behind.

 

Spike and Giles kept up their research until Willow returned. By that time, there really wasn’t any point to it since they had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t a Polgara that was running around, but there wasn’t much else to do either.

 

“You have a knack for research,” Giles commented, shortly before Willow returned.

 

Spike looked up in surprise. “It’s not that hard.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Giles said. “One would almost think you’ve done this before.”

 

Spike shrugged. “I have, a bit. When I was trying to cure Dru, I had to do a bit of it. And I did some when I was human too.”

 

It was the first time Spike had willingly mentioned his human past, and Giles couldn’t help feeling curious. “Do you mind if I ask what you were like as a human?”

 

Spike was silent for a moment. There was no one else around. Willow hadn’t yet returned, and Xander and Anya had disappeared into another part of the mansion. It was probably a good thing the place was so big, since it meant they couldn’t hear what the two lovebirds were up to. He put down the book he was holding, and looked off into space, trying to decide how much he wanted to reveal.

 

“I was a bit like you, I suppose,” he finally admitted. Giles couldn’t quite help showing his surprise, and Spike smiled sardonically. “Bit of a shocker, yeah? What did the Council of Wankers say? That I was a rabid killer beforehand?”

 

Giles had to admit that was largely the case. Spike laughed. “Good thing they didn’t know the truth, then. Would have ruined my reputation for sure. I was—” He laughed again, a little more bitterly this time. “I was a poet. Or I fancied myself as such. Wasn’t any good, really. Other than that small claim, I wasn’t much different than any other Victorian gentleman.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Giles admitted. “While you seem different, you don’t seem—”

 

“I’m not William anymore,” Spike replied. “William died in 1880, and it’s better that way. Poor bugger would never have made it out of the Initiative. He wasn’t built that way. And yet, he didn’t really. Die, I mean. Suppose we never really leave our old selves behind, no matter how much we change,” Spike mused.

 

Giles thought of Ripper, and nodded. “One might think that you would be completely different, given how different Angel and Angelus are.”

 

Spike did laugh. “So that’s what got all you gits confused? Angel and Angelus are the same person. Vampires—vampires know the difference between right and wrong, Rupes. We just don’t care, and we prefer to do the wrong thing. But some of us are more human than others. Angelus is a prime specimen of demon. The only thing that keeps him anchored in the human world is that soul of his. Me? I like this place, always have. It’s nice. Liked the food, and the cigs. Dog races, Manchester United. Angelus was a pitiful excuse for a man when he was alive. Drunken, whoring lay-about, from what I’ve heard.”

 

Giles thought about that for a moment. “Then you still think of yourself as Spike, and not William?”

 

Spike looked up, almost startled. He wasn’t sure he actually knew the answer to that question. “Don’t know that it’s an either/or, Rupert.”

 

Giles might have pressed for more information, but Willow showed up with news of failure, having been unable to perform the locating spell for the Polgara. Spike sat quietly, thoughtfully, through most of it. He was still thinking about the question Giles had asked. Was he William, or Spike? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t given it any thought, but he hadn’t come up with an answer either. There were times when it didn’t matter, when he simply felt like—himself, whatever name you gave him. There were other times, however, like when Buffy dragged her boy-toy through the door, that the question wasn’t so easily answered. Times when William warred with Spike. Do the right thing—or rip the wanker a new one? Tough question.

 

Willow looked up, and her eyes focused on someone behind them. “Riley? I don’t—I don’t think you should be up. Maybe you should lie back down.”

 

Riley stumbled out into the main room. “Where’s Buffy?”

 

“She left,” Giles stated, standing to face the younger man. “In fact, she went to see if she could find some help for you.”

 

Riley shook his head. “She went to the Initiative? I’ve got to go.”

 

“Riley, maybe you should lie down again,” Willow suggested.

 

He shook his head and started towards the door. The redheaded witch tried to stop him, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “I really think—”

 

Riley didn’t even slow down, pushing the girl aside and throwing her to the ground. “Red,” Spike rushed forward to help Willow up. He had stayed out of the soldier’s way, unwilling to call attention to the fact that capturing him was still part of his duty. Riley didn’t seem very reasonable at this point, and he might decide taking Spike back to the Initiative was the way to go.

 

He got Red to her feet and glanced over at Giles, who was looking concerned. “Should we go after him?” Willow asked, worried.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Giles replied, meeting Spike’s eyes. They were both thinking the same thing—that having a rather crazy soldier on the loose was probably not a good thing. “Riley is not being rational at this point. It’s pointless to try and reason with him.”

 

Willow looked over at Spike, who still had a hand on her shoulder. He smiled down at her. “It’ll be alright, Red. Buffy can take care of herself, and soldier-boy will be fine. They make ‘em tough.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Joyce asked. Spike was in the back office of the gallery, looking over the invoices and bills of lading. Somehow the paperwork had gotten behind in the few days he’d been gone. He supposed it made him feel needed. It wasn’t as though he could really help Buffy combat the new threat that the strange cyborg/demon, Adam, presented.

 

Spike smiled at her. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“You don’t look fine,” Joyce replied. There were still dark circles under his eyes, even days after his ordeal. “Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?”

 

Spike looked away. “Who needs sleep?”

 

“William—” Joyce admonished.

 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, and his tone signaled the end of the discussion.

 

“Hey.” Both Joyce and Spike turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway. “I was out on patrol and thought I’d stop by. Make sure Spike got back to Giles’ okay. I have to talk to him anyway.”

 

Joyce smiled. “Good. I don’t want William walking back alone.”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “What about your car?”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Blasted car broke down. It’s going to be a while before I can get the parts to fix it.”

 

“Bummer,” Buffy commented. “Well, if you’re ready, I am.”

 

Spike glared at her. “You’re not going to let me walk home by myself are you?”

 

“Nope,” Buffy replied cheerfully. She watched as he sighed and stood, shrugging into his jacket. “’Night, Mom.” She gave her mom a kiss on the cheek, and then all three of them walked out of the gallery, Buffy and Spike waiting until Joyce was safely in her car and driving away.

 

“No word from your soldier, yet?” Spike asked as they both walked towards Giles’ apartment.

 

Buffy shook her head. “No. All quiet on the western front.”

 

“I’m sure he’s fine, pet. They take care of their own,” he said, wanting to reassure her, even if he couldn’t care less about Riley himself.

 

“That’s pretty much what Forrest said,” Buffy replied. “I don’t think he’s very keen on me.”

 

“Someone who’s not keen on the Slayer?” Spike asked, trying to inject some humor. “You sure he’s not a vampire?”

 

Buffy smiled at him. “Pretty sure. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure I would mind putting a stake into him.” She gave him an intent look. “You sure you’re okay? You’re looking kinda—”

 

“Tired?” Spike asked, shrugging. “Suppose I am, a bit. Some nights are better than others. Right now I’m on a run of bad ones.”

 

“Spike—” Buffy paused. “If you need someone to talk to—I mean, I know you and Willow are friends, and Giles can be a pretty good listener when he wants to be. But if you want to talk, I’m here.”

 

“Appreciate that, Slayer, but I’ll be fine. Not like there’s much anyone can do right now. Just takes some time, I guess,” Spike said. Like her mother earlier, Buffy felt as though Spike wasn’t telling her everything, though she couldn’t figure out why. Her heart told her it had something to do with Riley, but she wasn’t quite sure what that would be.

 

“Well, at least with Dr. Walsh out of the way, you won’t have the Initiative after you anymore,” Buffy said, trying to look on the positive side. “As it is, they’ll be too concerned about Adam to worry about one little ol’ ex-vampire.”

 

“Who you calling little?” Spike asked, sounding slightly affronted.

 

Buffy looked up at him, pausing in the light of the lamp, smiling, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. Spike wanted to kiss her in that moment. Wanted to make her forget all about her missing soldier. Make her even forget the name of Riley.

 

He took a step back. She wasn’t his girl. They might now be friends, but they would never be more than that. His luck wasn’t that good. “We should get going,” he said softly, watching confusion play over her face as he pulled back, ending the game. “It’s getting late.”

 

And all the way home, Spike walked with a heavy heart, knowing he would always want what he couldn’t have.


	8. Knowing You

**“Don’t choose me because I’m faithful/Don’t choose me because I’m kind/If your heart settles on me/I’m for the taking/Take me for longing or leave me behind./I would be for you a fire and a rainbow/I would be for you an opening door/Time and hard lessons are one kind of wisdom/Try to forget them or love me no more./I’m not asking your heart to believe me/I’m not asking for promise or plans/Whatever the answer it’s yes that’s the question/I am a fool dancing over the edge.” ~Allison Krause and Union Station, “Take Me For Longing**

 

Spike looked around the dingy apartment with a sinking feeling. It was small and dark, unfurnished and cramped. It was also what he could afford. He would have to find furniture somewhere, though at least it came with appliances. The walls could use a good painting—if he could afford the paint. But really, did he have a choice if he wanted to get out of Giles’ place?

 

He turned to face the landlord, who definitely looked like he could audition for the role of slumlord in a B movie. “I’ll take it,” Spike said quietly. “When can I move in?”

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay. So we’re all here,” Buffy said, looking around the room. It was supposed to be a council of war about Adam, and she’d thought everyone was coming. “Wait a second. We’re not all here. Where’s Spike?”

 

As though her words summoned him, the front door opened, and he slipped inside, giving everyone an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Got a bit caught up.”

 

“Now we’re all here,” Buffy stated, wanting to get down to business. Riley had finally showed up, and they had reconnected. She wasn’t sure how he and Spike were going to react to one another, but she had managed to convince Riley to lay off. Judging from first impressions, Spike’s modus operandi was going to be ignoring the soldier, since he went over and perched on the stairs, on the fringe of things. For some reason that bothered her, just as much as Spike’s obvious fatigue did. She reminded herself to ask Giles for an update, since Spike didn’t seem to be into sharing information at this point.

 

“We need to come up with a plan for how we’re going to deal with Adam,” Buffy stated.

 

“The question seems to me to be why he’s been dormant for so long,” Giles commented.

 

Willow looked over at him. “When he’s not making performance art out of other demons, that is.”

 

Spike tried to pay attention as Riley talked about power sources and charging up, and the rest of them discussed what they were going to do about the Initiative. He was somewhat relieved to know that Riley would be playing double agent, since it meant that he wasn’t completely working for the dark side. Buffy seemed to be doing her best to reassure him that the Initiative would not be coming after him again. The disorganization that had followed Walsh’s death and Adam’s escape seemed to insure that they wouldn’t be concerned about one ex-vampire.

 

But when Buffy starting acting all love-bird-like, Spike had to look away. For a second, he thought he saw a face at the window, and then dismissed it as a delusion. He wasn’t sleeping at all well of late, and exhaustion was beginning to be an ever-present companion. Before, when he wasn’t working, he could catch catnaps through the day, but now his sleeping hours were more limited. And he wasn’t sleeping.

 

The general idea behind the conversation seemed to be that they didn’t know what they wanted to do about Adam, and Riley would pass along what information he could. Spike wasn’t sure why he needed to be there, except that he was supposed to be sleeping on the couch, which was currently occupied.

 

He was startled into a more wakeful state by the ringing of the phone, and he watched from his vantage point as Buffy’s face changed dramatically at what the caller said. “What is it?” Giles asked, before Spike could ask the same question.

 

“It’s Faith,” Buffy replied. “She’s awake.”

 

It was late before they all left. Spike, even in the midst of his tired fog, was amused at Willow’s hearty support of an ass-kicking for the rogue Slayer. She wasn’t usually so bloodthirsty. Buffy needed to give her boyfriend details of the new threat, and the rest of them needed to go home, which left him with the Watcher.

 

“Who is Faith?” Spike asked quietly. “I remember hearing a bit about her, but not much.”

 

Giles gave him the details as he made a pot of tea for the both of them—herbal, though, with a bit extra thrown in to aid sleep. Spike looked as though he could use a few dozen hours worth. “Faith was badly injured by Buffy, and has been in a coma ever since,” Giles said, finishing his tale. “I do feel a certain sympathy for her. She has had a very difficult time of it. But she made her choices, and they were certainly poor ones. I’m afraid she is going to be a great deal of trouble, at a time we can ill afford it.”

 

Spike nodded. “And if I see her?”

 

“Let one of us know,” the other man replied. “There’s no point in you putting yourself in danger. Faith is not a force to be trifled with.”

 

“Right.” There was a pause. “Thought I’d let you know, I found an apartment today. Move in next week.”

 

Giles froze, his teacup halfway to his mouth, and then he proceeded to sip as though he hadn’t been surprised at all. “I had wondered when you might move out.”

 

Spike shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’ll do. Just need a place to crash, really.”

 

“You do know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Giles said sincerely. “If you would prefer to wait and find something better when you can—”

 

“No,” Spike said firmly. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Rupert. More than I can say. But I need a place of my own. Need to not worry about waking you up in the middle of the night.” He was referring to the several nights in the past week that he had woken Giles with his screaming. His near miss with the Initiative didn’t make for restful nights. Of course, neither did his past.

 

Giles frowned. “I don’t mind that, Spike.” He hesitated, not knowing how to reassure without sounding condescending. “This is a difficult time for you, I know. I have a suspicion that it will be a long time before you can sleep soundly. But it won’t help to isolate yourself.”

 

“I’m not isolating myself,” Spike said, somewhat defensively. “I just need some space. Being around—” He stopped, not wanting to give himself away.

 

“I see,” Giles said, and he did see. For all his reserve, he saw a great deal at times. “Then perhaps it is for the best. I will, of course, give you any help you need.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Don’t have much, so I won’t need much. Should be able to make it in one trip in the Desoto.”

 

“So you did get it fixed?” Giles asked with a smile.

 

Spike nodded. “Got the parts. Should be able to fix it tomorrow afternoon. Won’t take long.”

 

There was something he wasn’t saying, but Giles didn’t want to press, didn’t want to force him to say things he wasn’t ready to say yet. “No. Well, if you do need assistance…”

 

“Thanks,” was all Spike would say, and then they both went to bed soon after, Giles certain that all was not right, and unable to think of anything he could do about it.

 

~~~~~

 

“So tell me what we’re supposed to be doing again?” Spike asked as he, Giles and Xander wandered down the main streets of Sunnydale the following evening. He knew, of course, that they were supposed to be looking for the _other_ Slayer, but what they were supposed to do with her when and if they found her was a little unclear.

 

Giles gave him a disapproving look, obviously not thinking much of Spike’s attempts at levity. “We are looking for Faith.”

 

“Yeah,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a very young child. “But what are we supposed to do when we find her?”

 

“I say we run,” Xander stated. “I mean, who’s she going to come after first? Me.”

 

Giles and Spike rolled their eyes in unison. They’d both already heard Xander’s theories and suppositions about how the girl had it in for him since they’d slept together once. In some ways, Spike felt sorry for the boy. Not that he would ever say it, but it was always better when your first time wasn’t a traumatic experience. “I’m sure,” Spike said dryly.

 

They walked another block, and then Spike asked, “So how long we gonna be out here, anyway?”

 

“Why?” Xander asked snidely. “Do you have a hot date?”

 

“No,” Spike said, somewhat defensively. “Just would like to get some sleep sometime tonight, that’s all.” He reassured himself by thinking of Laura’s phone number, still tucked away, but he wasn’t fooling himself. While he might be tempted to try and have a thing, just to get his mind off Buffy and her boyfriend, he wasn’t ready for that. Using someone didn’t seem right, and he didn’t think he was that kind of guy. At least, he didn’t want to be that kind of guy.

 

And as nice as Laura might be, he couldn’t tell her why the nightmares were plaguing him, why he couldn’t sleep for more than an hour or two every night, why sometimes the guilt pressed down so hard he could barely breathe. None of that was something an ordinary person might understand. Giles would, but Spike felt like he’d burdened the other man enough already. Buffy might, but she was completely taken up by her boyfriend again. Willow was a good listener, but she was entranced with Tara. And Xander didn’t even bear mentioning.

 

Not for the first time since becoming human did Spike feel completely alone, unable to unburden himself to anyone. Even Joyce, as kind as she was, could only do so much. Still, perhaps he ought to talk to her again. She did seem to have a calming effect on him.

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Xander’s voice. “Okay, let’s call it a night already. I don’t think Faith is wanting to be found right now.”

 

Giles, who was casting careful looks at Spike’s deeply lined face, nodded. “I don’t think we’re going to do anyone much good tonight. We might as well leave off.”

 

Xander soon left to go his own way, undoubtedly to find his girlfriend, even as Giles and Spike walked back towards the apartment. Their relationship over the last weeks had progressed beyond the point of awkward silences, so that there was no real need to talk, but both felt as though something was off. Giles knew that Spike was wrestling with things he could not speak about, and Spike knew he knew, and so was afraid to open his mouth for fear he’d let something slip.

 

When they reached the apartment, neither man broke the silence. Giles unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for Spike to precede him. Spike flipped the lights on and saw three rather rough looking characters sitting in the living room, making themselves comfortable.

 

“Rupert.” Collins greeted him calmly. “Nice to see you again.”

 

Giles froze for a moment, uncomfortable, and worried for Spike. While his roommate was human, and therefore no longer under the Council’s jurisdiction, Giles had long since ceased to completely trust the Council and those attached to it. They had no understanding of what it meant to be out in the field. They also had a distressingly black-and-white view of things. Giles had no idea of whether or not their policy wouldn’t be much like the Initiative’s: once a demon, always a demon.

 

“I wish I could say the same,” he replied after a beat.

 

Collins smiled, noting both Giles’ and his friend’s expressions of concern. Unwilling to let an opportunity for a jibe to slip by, he said, “I didn’t realize you’d taken up buggery in your old age.”

 

“Sod off,” Giles replied sharply, rudely, and not much caring.

 

One of the other men, Smith, who had been leaning up against the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, answered, “I’m afraid that’s not possible. We’ve been sent to retrieve your rogue Slayer.”

 

“As I recall,” Giles replied coldly, “she’s not mine. I was replaced by a man of the Council’s choosing. And you failed to contain her once before.”

 

“As I recall,” Collins said, deliberately echoing Giles’ phrasing, “we weren’t the ones who were sent to retrieve her. If we had been, she would have been in custody right now.”

 

Giles gritted his teeth, hating that the Council’s wet works team could make him feel uncomfortable in his own home. “Very well. What do you want from me?”

 

“We want your word you will not try to interfere,” Collins replied, Weatherby and Smith staring sullenly. They looked as though they would get a great deal of enjoyment if Spike or Giles did decide to be uncooperative.

 

Giles looked over at Spike, who was keeping his face carefully blank. It was obvious that he felt the danger, just as he felt the danger around the Initiative soldiers. “I have no problem with the Council’s decision to attempt rehabilitation in England. I would ask that you make every effort to bring the girl in alive, however.”

 

“Of course,” Collins agreed, too easily. Giles wondered how willing they would be to kill Faith if they had problems with her. Or even if they believed there were potential problems. Collins stood, and the other two men fell into step behind him as he walked out the door. “Take care, Rupert.”

 

Giles looked over at Spike to see what his reaction to the conversation was. Spike had a sardonic little smile on his face. “They won’t manage her.”

 

“What makes you say that?” Giles was curious as to Spike’s impression, though he couldn’t say that he disagreed with the assessment necessarily.

 

Spike turned to Giles, and there was a glint to his eyes. “Too cocky. To kill a Slayer, you have to know your quarry. They have no bloody clue.”

 

At Giles’ raised eyebrows, Spike’s lips twitched upwards. “Oh, I was cocky,” he admitted. “But I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that every Slayer has a death wish. And I think to kill a Slayer, you’ve got to have a bit of one yourself. Both of you have to be all right with dying. And one’s going to want it more.”

 

“And Faith?” Giles asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “Never having met the chit, I’d say I don’t know enough to figure that one out. Chances are, she wants to die a bit, but she probably doesn’t want to be taken out by the likes of those blokes. She’ll kick their arses good and proper, and if she’s as bad as you lot seem to think, she’ll probably kill them while she’s at it.”

 

He stood and went to grab a jacket. “Where are you off to?” Giles asked, curious. Spike really didn’t look as though he were in any condition to be going anywhere. Besides which, the younger man hadn’t seemed to have any desire to go out earlier.

 

Spike shrugged into the jacket and glanced back over at Giles. “I’m feeling a bit antsy after that visit,” he replied quietly. “Think I need to go relax a bit before I can sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” Giles just shook his head in reply. He had learned by now that there was no point in arguing with him. Spike would simply fall on his face after a while out of exhaustion. Some people had to learn the hard way.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike wasn’t sure the Bronze was exactly the relaxing atmosphere he needed, but where else was there to go in a place like Sunnydale? In any case, he needed a little more than doctored tea to put him to sleep at nights. And while he wouldn’t have minded drinking himself into oblivion, that kind of activity was simply too expensive.

 

A couple bottles of piss-poor beer put him in a slightly better mood, however. At least it took the edge off, and he could let himself drift in the music and the noise. Mostly he just watched the people passing, pretending for a moment that he was a vampire again. Who would he hunt? Who would he choose for an evening’s pleasure? Spike shook those thoughts off with a feeling of guilt. He shouldn’t be remembering those times with any pleasure at all. He had killed people, and he had enjoyed it. That wasn’t who he was anymore. More importantly, it wasn’t who he wanted to be. Yet that didn’t mean he didn’t miss it sometimes.

 

“Hey, Spike!” Willow said brightly. She and Tara were standing in front of his secluded corner, and both girls were giving him bright smiles. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good,” he replied, with a bit of a smile. “You two look cheerful.”

 

“We just got back from Giles’,” Willow explained. “Or, I did, anyway. Faith is now safely in police custody.”

 

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “Who managed that and how?”

 

“Buffy, and pretty much the usual way. Faith showed up at Buffy’s house and threatened Mrs. Summers, and then Buffy showed up and kicked her ass. They called the police, and that was that.” Willow paused. “Though, Giles seemed to think that the Council would have taken her by now.”

 

“They probably did,” Spike said. “Not blokes to wait on anything. Remains to be seen if they can actually keep a handle on her. I take it you girls are out for the evening?”

 

“Tara hadn’t ever been to the Bronze before!” Willow exclaimed, plopping down beside him. “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

 

“You two?” Spike replied gallantly, reserving a special smile for Tara. “Never.” He let them chat for a bit around him, comfortable in their presence as always. They never made him feel as though he didn’t belong, and it was nice that they were with each other. It took the pressure off, and made both of them safe to be friends with, not having to worry about the attraction piece. “Think I’m going to have one more,” he said, standing after a while. “You two want anything?”

 

“Not right now,” Willow replied. “Maybe in a little while. Tara?”

 

“Just some w-water, if you d-don’t mind,” she said, so quietly Spike could barely hear her over the crowd.

 

“Certainly, m’lady,” he said, making her blush and Willow giggle. He made his way through the crowd to the bar. Hesitating slightly, he pulled out his glasses from his pocket. They had been another one of those expenses that couldn’t be put off. Trying to read the fine print on invoices and other documents had been giving him massive headaches. The glasses helped. They also helped him to read the print on the menu above the bar so he could see if he had a better choice of beer.

 

Spike placed his order and paid, then turned to head back towards Tara and Willow, bumping into someone rather hard. “Hey!” he protested as both water and beer spilled. The other person had obviously not been watching where they were going.

 

“Watch it,” she replied, and Spike looked down to see Buffy standing in front of him.

 

“Buffy,” he replied, his anger draining away. “Out celebrating your victory then?”

 

She looked confused for a second, and then said, “Uh, yeah, that’s right. What are you doing here?”

 

“Same as you,” Spike returned. There was something that seemed off about her. The way she tilted her head, or the way she moved, or something. “Just trying to relax so I can actually sleep at night.”

 

Buffy (Faith) was still giving him a funny look, and then she suddenly seemed to figure out whatever was puzzling her. “Right. Spike. The faces of all those people you killed keeping you awake at night, now that you’re good?” Faith had gotten hints of what had happened earlier that evening at Giles’ when Willow had asked where he was. She had also seen him when she was peeking in the window, spying on the gang.

 

Spike stared at the Slayer. Her tone was harsh, mocking. Cruel. For some reason she had decided to go back to treating him as she had when he had first become human. “Something like that,” he ground out, moving to get around her.

 

“What, leaving already?” Faith asked, her lips tilting up in a small, smug smile. “Come on, Spike. We could have some fun. Lose the glasses and you could be pretty hot. As it is, they make you look like a wuss.”

 

Spike resisted the urge to yank the glasses off his face, trying once again to get around her. “But wait,” Faith said. “You know, I could still show you some things. I bet I could tap into that monster again.” She ran a finger down his chest. “Wouldn’t it be fun? To play Slayer and Vampire again, Spike? Wouldn’t you just love that?”

 

It was too close to his thoughts of earlier. Much too close. “Excuse me,” he said, heading back to the bar, ignoring her laughter. He had spilled Tara’s water. He needed to get a refill. He stood there for a long time, trying to get his composure. Spike thought he and Buffy were getting somewhere. She had been so gentle the other day, so—

 

That wasn’t Buffy. Spike blinked as he realized it. Not that he had any kind of proof, but that wasn’t Buffy, he was certain of it. He gulped down the rest of his beer and grabbed Tara’s water, heading back towards where they had been sitting. Willow was nowhere to be seen, but Buffy was sitting across from Tara, and from the look on the shy girl’s face, their meeting wasn’t going well. Spike could only imagine what not-Buffy was saying to her, judging by what she had said to him.

 

“Hello again,” Spike said to Buffy, or whatever was impersonating her, letting a touch of ice creep into his tone. He handed Tara’s glass to her. “You alright, luv?”

 

“I’m fine,” she managed. Spike knew they needed to get out of there without alerting the Slayer. If she thought they knew what was going on, it could get ugly.

 

Willow came up just then and started talking with not-Buffy, while Spike leaned in close to Tara. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked in a low tone. “I’m afraid she’s a bit of a bitch tonight.”

 

Tara gave him a wan smile. “She was, but I’m okay. Except, Spike, that’s not—” She glanced up at not-Buffy, who was looking at something Willow had pointed out. The Slayer headed off in that general direction, for which Spike could only be grateful. Something about the girl made him terribly uneasy.

 

“I know,” he replied, putting a hand on her arm to keep her from finishing. “We’ll get Red and get out of here. We need to find out what’s going on.” In a louder voice, he said, “Red, Tara’s not feeling well. Why don’t we get the two of you home?”

 

Willow frowned, immediately concerned. “Sure. Buffy was going to go take care of a vamp, but we can let her know and get out of here.”

 

When not-Buffy got back, Willow let her know that she was taking Tara home. “Spike’s going to walk with us,” she added.

 

“Oh, really?” not-Buffy asked, a snide tone in her voice. “Well, you guys give her whatever she needs.”

 

Willow asked her something about Riley, but Spike wasn’t paying much attention to her answer. He was more interested in leaving. Quickly.

 

Spike managed to hustle both women outside, hovering protectively in between them. He wanted to be well away from the Slayer before they started talking about the fact that _something_ was inhabiting Buffy’s body that wasn’t Buffy.

 

They were well away from the Bronze when Willow said apologetically, “I’m sorry you’re feeling all blechy, but we can get together with Buffy some other time. I think you’ll like her.”

 

Spike and Tara exchanged a look. “She’s not your friend,” Tara said.

 

“Okay, I think I might have overestimated the liking,” Willow said slowly.

 

Spike shook his head. “That’s not it, Red. She’s not Buffy.”

 

Willow stopped short and stared at them. “What do you mean?”

 

Frustrated, Spike replied, “I don’t know. But that’s not Buffy.” He looked at Tara for support.

 

Tara nodded slowly. “He’s right, Willow. A-a person’s energy has a flow, a unity. Buffy’s was—was fragmented. It—it grated, like something forced in where it doesn’t belong. Plus, she—she was kind of mean.”

 

“She was a right royal bitch,” Spike snorted. “Not that she hasn’t treated me like crap before, but I‘ve never known her to give that kind of treatment to one of your friends, Red.”

 

Willow considered that for a moment. “So you think Buffy’s not herself? Like she’s been possessed or something?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tara confessed, and Spike shrugged, indicating his own cluelessness.

 

“You didn’t get a sense of hyena energy did you?” Willow asked urgently. “Because hyena possession is just unpleasant.”

 

Tara looked pensive. “If you have something of hers, there might be something we could try. You know, to figure out what happened. It—it’s dangerous, but…”

 

“Worth it,” Willow said. “If something’s wrong with Buffy, it’s worth it. And I trust you.” She looked over at Spike. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to see if I can’t find that other Slayer, Faith? This started with her. Buffy was just fine before all this started.” Spike looked grim. “Where did Buffy say she was going to be?”

 

“With Riley.” Willow frowned slightly. “But if the Council has her—”

 

Spike considered that for a moment. He didn’t think the soldier would be in any danger from her, unless whatever took over Buffy’s body was a succubus. Of course, even if she was, no skin off his nose. “Giles might be able to find out where they’re holding her,” he said. “Besides, those blokes didn’t look like they were into babysitting a Slayer all that much. Be a right shame if it turns out we need the other girl to make this right and all we have is a dead body.”

 

“No kidding,” Willow grimaced. “I guess Tara and I will meet you back at Giles as soon as we get this figured out.” As Spike started off down the street, Willow called out after him, “Oh, and Spike?” He turned and looked at her. “I like the glasses. They look good.”

 

Spike smiled sheepishly. He’d forgotten he had them on. He gave a small wave and then loped off down the street towards Giles’ place.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles came awake slowly to find Spike shaking his shoulder insistently. “Rupert, wake up.”

 

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, as Spike flipped on the bedside lamp.

 

“It’s Buffy,” Spike said without preamble. He didn’t think they had time for niceties, not when Buffy’s life could be at stake.

 

That woke Giles up. “What happened? Is she alright?”

 

“Depends on what you mean by ‘alright,’” Spike said. “Ran into her at the Bronze. At least it looked like her, but it wasn’t Buffy. Don’t know what’s going on, but Tara was sure something was wrong too. Something about her energy being fragmented, and the girl should know. She’s a grade-A witch.”

 

Giles’ sleep-fuddled mind tried to decipher what Spike was trying to tell him. “You ran into Buffy at the Bronze, but you don’t think it was really her?”

 

“It’s not her,” Spike insisted.

 

Giles shook his head. “Forgive me, Spike, but I’m not certain that—”

 

“Trust me,” Spike pleaded. “Something is going on with the Slayer. I think we need to find that other one, Faith. She’s where it all started. Buffy was fine earlier tonight.”

 

Giles thought for a moment, thought about the Council’s wet works team and what he knew of them, thought about Spike’s success in past weeks helping with research and other things. In the end, trusting Spike was something of a no-brainer, as Buffy might say. “I know someone who might be able to help,” Giles stated. “Let me get dressed and make a phone call. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Spike paced the small living room, waiting for Giles to get the information they needed. The small voice in the back of his head that told him something was wrong was growing more alarmed by the second. What if something really had happened to Buffy? What if they needed Faith to get her back? What if Faith was already dead?

 

“I’ve found where they’re holding her,” Giles said from behind him. “You do realize that they will not be pleased at our showing up, don’t you?”

 

Spike shrugged. “Good for them.”

 

Satisfied, Giles gave a Ripper-like smile. Sometimes he thought Spike brought out the worst in him. Or perhaps it was the best… “Then we’ll need weapons. How good a shot are you?”

 

“I’m good,” Spike said easily. “I can hit what I’m aiming at anyway.”

 

Giles disappeared for a moment and came back carrying a tranquilizer rifle. “Very good. We might need this for Faith, as well as the Council’s team.” He tossed the rifle to Spike and came up with a sword for himself. “Let’s go, then.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was not having a good time. And that was about the understatement of the year. There was a small—very small—part of her that almost felt sorry for Faith. Her sister Slayer would have been at the mercy of these goons if they hadn’t switched bodies, and Buffy was rapidly coming to hate them.

 

Of course, whatever sympathy she might have felt was swallowed up in the sense of violation. It was worse than what she imagined rape might be like since everything had been taken from her. Unless she could get herself out of this mess, everyone would go on believing that Buffy was out there and Faith was in the hands of the Council. To further muddle matters, she had the sinking sensation that the men who had grabbed her would have no qualms about getting her good and dead. And no one would ever know.

 

They wouldn’t come near her again, her previous actions had made certain of that, so she would have to find some other way to prevent being killed. They would probably try to shoot her. Buffy stretched out as far as she could go, feeling grateful for Faith’s slightly longer legs. It would make it that much easier to disarm whatever hand came through the small, barred window in the back of the van.

 

The gun came through as expected, but before Buffy could even move, she heard the sounds of a struggle, and a familiar voice that said, “I’d drop that if I were you, mate. Unless you want me to drop you.”

 

The hand withdrew, taking the gun with it, there was a heavy thump, and Buffy waited with bated breath until the doors opened to reveal Spike. In glasses? She threw off the momentary confusion that sight brought. “Spike! I’m glad you’re here. You have to believe me. Faith switched. I mean, she had some device that switched our bodies, and—”

 

“I know.” Spike was looking rather amused at this point, even as he searched the body of the unconscious man. He found the keys and climbed in the back of the van to unlock the shackles.

 

“Wait a minute,” Buffy said, staring at him. “You know?”

 

Spike gave her a smug little smile. “Well, I knew Buffy wasn’t herself when I saw her earlier tonight. Didn’t know _you_ were Buffy though till just now. Nobody says my name like you do.” He paused. “Though, I have to tell you, the body-switching thing? Just a bit confusing for all parties involved.”

 

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Buffy suddenly felt safer than she had since she found out Faith had awoken from her coma. Here was someone who saw her, who knew her. It was a tremendously reassuring feeling. “We have to get out of here,” she said. “I need to find Faith so I can get my body back.”

 

“Right,” Spike replied, finishing unlocking the cuffs. “Do me a favor, find the keys to this monstrosity while I tell Giles what we’re up to. He’s out guarding the front in case someone else comes.”

 

“Didn’t you guys drive out here?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike gave the unconscious body a pointed look before he started to drag it off to the side with him. “You really want to leave these wankers with transportation?”

 

She saw his point. “I’ll find the keys.”

 

Spike insisted on driving, and Buffy had to admit he was probably better at it than she was. Of course, he’d also been driving longer than she’d been alive. He pulled the van up in front of Giles’ apartment, the Desoto was already parked out front, and they went inside. Giles jumped a little at seeing what looked like Faith walking around free.

 

“It’s okay, Rupert,” Spike said reassuringly. “Faith and Buffy switched bodies. This is Buffy.”

 

Giles didn’t look at all convinced. “Spike, I don’t think you realize Faith’s deviousness. Now, I think it might be better if we just tied Faith up for right now. At least until Willow gets here with the results of that spell you were telling me about.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes, about to say something before Buffy interrupted him. “Giles! It’s me, Buffy! You turned into a demon, and I knew it was you by your eyes. Can’t you just look into my eyes, and—and do that intuition thing?”

 

“How did I become a demon?” Giles asked, his eyes narrowing.

 

Buffy thought for a second. “Ooh! ‘Cause, uh, Ethan Rayne turned you into a demon. And you have a girlfriend named Olivia. You haven’t had a job since we blew up the high school—which is valid, lifestyle-wise. I mean, it’s not like you’re a slacker-type. Oh, oh! When I had psychic power, I heard my mom think that you were like a stevedore during sex.” At the look on Giles’ face, she paused briefly. “Do you want me to continue?”

 

“Actually, I beg you to stop,” Giles said, trying not to blush.

 

Spike’s eyes had almost bugged out of his head, and he stared at Giles. “You slept with Joyce?” He turned back to Buffy. “When the bloody hell did that happen?”

 

“Band candy,” she replied briefly. “I promise, I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now, we need to find Faith. My body could be in Mexico for all I know.”

 

“Not in Mexico,” Spike replied, slightly uncomfortable with his knowledge of precisely where Buffy’s body probably was.

 

Buffy frowned. “Where?”

 

“With Riley,” he mumbled, and looked for shelter. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t be too happy with that information.

 

Buffy shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t think Faith would hurt him, and he’d know it wasn’t really me. Right? Because you guys knew it wasn’t me.”

 

Spike didn’t have a chance to tell her that no, actually, it was only him and a girl she’d never met before that actually knew. Willow came in through the front door, followed closely by Tara.

 

Buffy looked over at her. “Willow, wait. You know what’s going on right?”

 

“You’re Buffy,” Willow replied calmly. “You and Faith switched bodies, probably through a Draconian katra spell.”

 

“She knows more than I do,” Giles muttered.

 

Willow looked over at Tara. “This is Tara. She helped me figure out what spell we needed to switch you back. She’s a really powerful witch.” Tara waved shyly and muttered a disclaimer. “Anyway, we conjured a katra. It should switch you back if you can get your hands on Faith.”

 

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. “Great. So we just have to find Faith now.”

 

“Call Finn,” Spike suggested. “She might still be with him.”

 

“I’ll do it,” Willow offered, handing the box containing the katra to Giles. “Riley probably wouldn’t tell a strange person about Buffy’s whereabouts anyway.”

 

Willow made the quick call, and then hung up, shaking her head. “He said she left while he was still asleep.”

 

“Now how are we going to find her?” Buffy demanded. “She has my body, and I want it back.”

 

The phone rang again, and this time Giles answered it. “Hello?…Uh, yes. Actually, Buffy’s here with me. She’s, uh, she’s—oh, alright.” He hung up. “Xander,” he explained. “He said to turn on the news.”

 

They turned it on to the middle of a segment on a hostage situation. It was clear from the information the newswoman was passing along that it was a vampire related attack. “Unusual,” Spike commented, almost to himself. “For it to be in the middle of the day, and in the church like that? Something’s wrong with that picture.”

 

“Something is always wrong with this picture,” Buffy grumbled. “I need to save a bunch of people from vampires in the middle of the day, and I’m in the wrong body.” She sighed. What she really wanted to do was to chase Faith down and make her pay, after she got her own body back. But she was the Slayer, no matter what she looked like, and she had people to save. “We’ll just have to find Faith later,” she said. “We’d better get out there before the vamps get tired of playing and decide to eat everybody.”

 

~~~~~

 

They took the van because it was the only vehicle that would hold all of them. Giles and Spike stayed up front while the girls rode in the back, none of them wanting Buffy to be seen, especially while her present face was on wanted posters.

 

Pulling up in front of the church, they were met by a police sergeant who was busy telling them that they shouldn’t be there. Buffy looked over at Giles and Spike, who had scrambled out of the van to join them. Both men got her signal, but it was Spike who took her cue. “You have to let me in,” he said, frantically. He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from; he hadn’t been that great of a liar even when he was a vampire and evil, but he decided to go with it. “My fiancée is in there. I was supposed to meet her this morning.”

 

At this point, he could see that Buffy had managed to get around the barricade and was headed toward the front of the church, and he allowed Giles and Willow to hold him back. “Please, I just need to be sure she’s okay.” His acting job must have been pretty good, since the sergeant’s face was beginning to show a reluctant sympathy. Giles pulled him back further.

 

“William, we must stay back and let this police do their job.” Giles’ acting abilities were not so stellar. “I’m certain they’ll notify us as soon as they know something.”

 

Spike let himself be led off, far enough away that the sergeant decided to leave the small group alone. He did not, however, have to feign the worried look on his face. Buffy was in there, and she was alone, against who knew how many vampires. It wasn’t that he doubted her ability to take care of herself, but he found that at some point she had somehow taken up residence in his heart. The faint stirrings of passion he had tried to quell had burst into full flame, and he had given over a hostage to fortune.

 

When Buffy, the real Buffy, emerged some time later, he knew she had been successful, both in destroying the vampires and in getting her own body back. The device Willow had given her earlier had apparently worked like the charm it was. She walked and moved and gestured like Buffy did. He didn’t need anyone else to tell him that. And Riley was just a couple steps behind her.

 

Spike turned away to look at Giles. “What time is it?”

 

Giles tore his eyes away from his Slayer to look over at Spike. “Pardon—oh.” He checked his watch. “Quarter of ten.”

 

“I’d better get going then,” Spike said, infinitely weary. At Giles’ frown, he explained. “I’m supposed to be at the gallery by 11, and I still have to clean up and such.”

 

“I’m sure Joyce would understand your not coming in,” Giles protested.

 

“You speaking from your intimate knowledge of the lady?” Spike asked with a sly grin, which only widened at Giles’ glare.

 

“You’re not going to let me forget about that are you?”

 

“Maybe after a while,” Spike allowed. From the look on his face, Giles knew the subject was closed. Spike would be going into the gallery, and that was all there was to it.

 

Giles sighed. “Well, let’s get out of here then.” He glanced back to where Buffy and Riley were talking. “I don’t believe we’re needed here anymore.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike made it to the gallery on time, though Joyce didn’t look all that happy to see him. “Spike! You look like death warmed over.”

 

“Sleepless night,” he explained, not wanting to go into more detail. If Joyce knew how sleepless it had been, she would probably send him home, and he needed the money. “But look at you,” he said, referring to the shiner she was sporting. “While we were out being useless, you were stopping a Slayer’s fist with your face.”

 

“I’m fine,” Joyce insisted. “Buffy showed up before she had a chance to do much.” She let him tilt her face with a gentle hand so he could see the damage.

 

Spike looked at her with regret. “You sure you’re alright? I can handle things on my own today if you want to leave.”

 

“Thank you, William, but I really am okay,” Joyce said gently.

 

He smiled. “Well, that’s good.” Spike let the silence stretch on, and then said quietly, “I found an apartment.” He had told Joyce about his search before anyone else. She was the one he had asked about where to look, the one who had explained renters’ agreements and security deposits. He hadn’t felt comfortable asking Giles, for fear he would seem ungrateful.

 

“Where?”

 

He shrugged. “Near the campus a bit more. Off Elm.”

 

Joyce knew the apartments he was talking about. She also knew that they weren’t all that pleasant. She kept her tone neutral, however, knowing that there were some things you had to do on your own, including getting your first apartment. “When do you move?”

 

“Next week sometime,” he said. Spike looked over at her, a self-deprecating look on his face. “Thought I’d give you the address anyway. Won’t have a phone for a while.”

 

Joyce nodded, concerned, but she still said nothing. She merely made a note to herself to be certain to fix Spike care packages for his new apartment, disguised as extra food she couldn’t eat. There were ways to get around pride.

 

They worked in a comfortable silence after that, Joyce up front and Spike in the back with the books. He had never liked math when he was a human, preferring instead the warm passion of poetry. Spike still liked poetry; he always had, even after he had been turned. William had never completely left him in that regard. Even so, numbers seemed soothing now, requiring precision and concentration, but no emotion. He was too full of emotion these days, and the cold demands of numbers allowed him to not think, not feel, for a while.

 

Spike lost himself in the dullness of exhaustion and routine until Joyce called him back to his senses. “Spike?”

 

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway of the small office, Buffy standing behind her. “I’m going to take off. You’ll lock up?”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, his eyes never leaving Buffy. Belatedly, he realized that he was still wearing his glasses, and quickly pulled them off. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

 

Buffy smiled. “I’m alright.”

 

“And Faith?”

 

She came to stand inside the office, and Spike started to rise to give her his chair. Buffy waved him back. “Don’t get up. And Faith’s gone, no trace. Same with the Council guys.”

 

“Not surprised there,” Spike replied, the traces of a smirk playing around his lips. It was an expression Buffy hadn’t seen on his face for a very long time.

 

She hesitated. “I wanted to thank you this morning, but you took off before I got a chance.”

 

“For what?” Spike was clearly confused.

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “For starters, coming after me, for figuring it out, quite possibly for saving my life.”

 

Spike shrugged it off. “Tara knew as much as I did, luv,” he replied uneasily. “And you’re the Slayer. You’d have gotten yourself out of there.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Maybe, but you knew, Spike.” The silence hung between them. “Can I ask you a question?” When Spike nodded uncertainly, she said, “How did you know? That I wasn’t me, anyway. Willow said you and Tara figured it out, but that no one else even had a clue.”

 

Spike shifted in his chair uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes. “Dunno,” he said. “Suppose—I guess you were cruel.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “You’ve been—you were cruel to Tara, and I’ve never seen you do that to a person you haven’t met before.”

 

Buffy could, occasionally, read between the lines. Spike was particularly easy to read. “What did Faith say to you, Spike?”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.

 

Buffy shook her head. “From the look on your face, I think it does.”

 

He shrugged. “Twitted me about not sleeping and gave me a bit of a hard time about the glasses, is all. Not a big deal, Slayer.”

 

Buffy smiled a little, and then reached across him to pick up the glasses off the table. Clumsily, she put them back on his face, finally pushing them into place with her index finger, tapping him playfully on the nose. “Well, I can tell you that Faith didn’t know what she was talking about with the glasses. I think they look good. I mean, you look good without them too.” She paused, slightly flustered. “Either way.”

 

He smiled, ducking his head shyly. “Thanks, luv.” Then, quietly, “You want the whole truth, Buffy?”

 

Even now, it was so rare to hear him use her name that it startled her. Let her know how serious he was. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” she tried to joke, but it fell strangely flat. There was no room in his face for joking.

 

“It was you, Buffy. I know you. The way you move, the way you walk, the way you dance. I know the way you tilt your head, and the fire in your eyes.” Spike swallowed heavily, knowing that he was showing his hand to her, that the game would be up. “It’s not the outside package that makes you, Buffy. Faith isn’t you. She can’t be.” He reached up to touch a lock of golden hair.

 

“I’d know you even if you were in the body of an old man, luv,” he whispered, and the intimacy of his voice, of his gesture, sent chills up and down her spine. The roughness of his voice, the lines in his face, all drew her to him. He was beautiful. Had she ever noticed that before? Or was it the blue flame of his eyes, calling to her as if she were a moth? She could be consumed by it, and never care. The comfort of being known surrounded her, and she needed it after Riley had betrayed her as he had.

 

“I broke up with Riley,” Buffy confessed.

 

Spike blinked at the apparent non sequitur. “Huh?”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “I broke up with Riley. He slept with Faith.”

 

Spike was conflicted. There was a part of him that wanted to jump up and down for joy, to tell her that she was better off without him. But his inherent sense of fair play, instilled in him from birth and back full force with his heartbeat, was telling him that it wasn’t Riley’s fault he hadn’t known. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, settling for the middle ground. “I know you cared about him.”

 

“I could have forgiven him,” Buffy said. “I mean, I know it looked like me, so it wasn’t like he meant to cheat. And Tara saw the energy thing. But you knew. You knew. How could I stay with someone who didn’t know me when there was someone who did?”

 

Her lips were descending, ever closer to his. Spike came to his senses suddenly, his brain having shut down while she was so close to him. “Wait. Buffy.” He pushed her away gently and stood up, moving out into the gallery to get some distance. He couldn’t hope to have a rational thought while she was so close. “You don’t want this.”

 

“I don’t want what?” Buffy asked, confused. She was certain that he wanted her. It was written all over his face, shining from his eyes.

 

“This,” he replied, waving to the space in between them. “You just broke up with your boyfriend. You’re hurt and angry, and you have every right to be. But don’t try to use me to get even with him for not figuring it out.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, angry at his accusation that she might be using him for revenge. And then she shut it again. It wasn’t the complete truth, but there was a piece of her that knew it was at least a small part of the truth. “It’s not like that,” she finally said, more calmly.

 

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper in the darkened gallery, the only light coming from the lamp in the office behind them. “Tell me you want me, Buffy. Tell me you came here tonight because you want to be with me, and that it doesn’t have anything at all to do with Finn. If you can tell me that, we’ll take up right where we left off.”

 

Buffy was silent. She had come to him to find out how he had known that it was Faith in her body. How he had known when none of her friends had even guessed. She had found more than she could have ever imagined, but it wouldn’t be fair to take the comfort he could offer, not when she was unsure of whether she could offer him anything in return.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think—I think we should both go home. It’s been a long couple of days.”

 

Buffy couldn’t think of anything to say to change his mind, to assure him that there was more there than he believed. Words had never been her forte. “Spike,” she said, calling him back, not wanting him to leave looking as though his whole world had just ended. “That wasn’t the only reason I came to you tonight. It wasn’t all about Riley.”

 

Spike nodded, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure there was anything left to say.


	9. The Importance of Being--Jonathan?

“It’s a beautiful world but everyone’s insane/Either you swim or either you fade/It’s a revolution time we’re sleeping at the wheel/Apocalypse child in a nuclear field/We want to change the world but not what holds us back/I want to be for you what I’ve never had/And all of this time I was just trying to reach you…Fragile to the waves- vicissitudes of days/ When I am with you I feel a little brave/The madness and the wars the circles that we run/ Confusion we import look what we’ve become/And all this time I was just trying to reach you…If you leave- I die with you.” ~Bush, “Float”

Buffy was still feeling a little disoriented from the previous evening’s assault on the vampire nest. Everyone had seemed to think she did all right, but there was something about the fight that bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt as though she were off her game somehow, and that just didn’t seem right.

 

Buffy sighed and shrugged it off as personal issues. Breaking up with Riley, and then Spike’s withdrawal had just thrown her off a little, put her in the dumps. It would pass.

 

Riley had been understandably hurt when she’d broken it off. He told her that it wasn’t fair, that he hadn’t really cheated on her, that she was being unreasonable. Heck, maybe he was right, maybe she was being unreasonable. But every time that thought popped into her mind, she was reminded of Spike’s words, of what he had said, of the look in his eyes. Buffy had never known what it meant to be _known_ like that. Seeing that, it was impossible to believe that she’d made the wrong decision.

 

Besides, while she felt a pang of regret concerning Riley, it was Spike that she missed. Now that he’d moved out of Giles’ apartment, it seemed as though he was avoiding her. Buffy hadn’t seen him for the last few days, and every time she tried to catch him at Giles’ or at the gallery, he disappeared.

 

“Buffy!” The call startled her, and she turned to see Riley hurrying to catch up. “Buffy. Hey.”

 

Buffy felt awkward. She wasn’t sure if they were still trying to be friends or not. “Riley. How are you? Is your, uh, stomach feeling better?”

 

He shrugged. “You know, it’s about back to normal.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence. “How are you?” Riley finally asked.

 

“Good,” Buffy said. “You know, pretty much the same old, same old.” She looked off into the distance. “I should go. I’ve got—”

 

“Wait,” Riley said, grabbing her arm. “Buffy, can’t we talk about this? You know I care about you. Maybe—I mean, if you just took some time, we could work this out.” He looked at her sincerely. “This is weird for me too. It’s not like I wanted this.”

 

Buffy sighed. She looked around and found a bench, leading him to sit down next to her. “Riley, I know this has been hard for you, and that you didn’t mean to sleep with anyone but me. It’s just that there were other people who knew it wasn’t me, and I have to wonder if I’m with the right person, when you didn’t know and—other people did.”

 

“This is about Spike, isn’t it?” Riley demanded. “Spike knew, so you think you’re meant to be with him? Buffy—”

 

“This isn’t about anybody except you and me,” Buffy retorted, interrupting him. “Riley, I’m sorry, but you don’t understand. I don’t know if you _can_ understand. I’ve been fighting evil since I was fifteen, and most of that time no one knew about it. I had to hide who I was from my mom, people at school, teachers, everyone. No one really knew me. I didn’t think it was possible, to be honest. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. But Spike knew. Somebody knows me that well, better even than my friends and family, and I need some time to figure out what that means.”

 

Riley had lapsed into angry silence at this point, and Buffy felt a keen disappointment. She wanted him to understand, but that didn’t seem likely. “This isn’t about me being with anyone right now,” she said gently. “It is about the fact that I don’t think we really know each other. I don’t think we’re even in the same place.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. “I think you’re making a mistake, Buffy,” he said unhappily. “You know how I feel about you. Isn’t that more important that just being a good guesser?”

 

Buffy’s eyebrows went up, and she stood. “That was more than being a ‘good guesser.’ I’m sorry it worked out this way, I really am. But I need my space right now.”

 

She took a deep breath and headed off towards her class, a certain pair of blue eyes haunting every step.

 

~~~~~

 

“This is all Faith’s fault,” Buffy complained. “It’s like she’s poison. No, it’s like she’s acid that eats through everything. Maybe she’s a bomb. The point is, everything was going fine until she wrecked it. Things were going really well with Riley, and I was getting along great with Spike. Then Faith has to come along and ruin it.”

 

Jonathan gave her an understanding smile. “You know, Buffy, I don’t think you’re really angry at Faith. I think you’re angry at Riley.”

 

A breathless girl came up to the table, holding out a book. “Could you?”

 

“Sure,” Jonathan said warmly even as Buffy stifled a surge of annoyance. Jonathan was usually the person she went to with her troubles, but they were always getting interrupted by fans. She guessed it was just the price you paid for fame. He handed the book back to the girl. “You and Riley had this amazing connection, and then at the moment that it matters most, he looks into your eyes and doesn’t even see it’s not you looking back at him.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Well, yeah, pretty much. But the thing is, Spike knew. He’s not even my boyfriend or anything. We haven’t been friends for that long. So, did Riley and I really have that connection, or was I just fooling myself?”

 

Jonathan frowned wisely. “Only you can answer that question, Buffy. I think you have to ask yourself if you aren’t a little angry at Spike too for pushing you away.”

 

Buffy considered that for a second. “I don’t know, maybe. He was at least a little bit right, though. I wasn’t being completely fair to him.”

 

“Maybe you’re angry because you can’t have things both ways,” Jonathan suggested gently. “You’re angry at Riley because he didn’t know you well enough to tell that it was Faith in your body. And maybe you’re a little bit angry at Spike for knowing you so well that he knew your heart wasn’t really with him.”

 

Buffy thought about that as Jonathan signed “Karen-with-a-K’s” book. He was probably right, of course. She had been a little angry at Spike. Having someone know her that well was a little scary. The funny thing was that he didn’t know her like Willow or Xander or her mom did. He didn’t know her favorite color, or movie, or what had happened at her tenth birthday party, but he knew when some psycho switched bodies with her. The history wasn’t there, but the depth was.

 

“So what do you think, Buffy?” Jonathan asked as Karen ran off squealing. “If I’m wrong, smack me. Karen-with-a-K has a book you could use, and it’s pretty heavy.”

 

“Maybe I have been a little angry at both of them. Plus, Spike’s been avoiding me.” She bit her lip. “How do I even talk to him? I know he has feelings for me, but I don’t know if I feel the same way. He already knows me so well—it’s a little scary.”

 

Jonathan stood and gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey, Buffy. We live on the Hellmouth. We’ve faced things a lot scarier. Give it some thought, but go with your heart. It’s a good one.”

 

“What if I can’t make it right with him?” Buffy asked. “I think I really hurt his feelings. And whatever Faith said to him didn’t help matters any.”

 

“If you really want it, you can make anything happen,” Jonathan replied, and Buffy couldn’t help but believe him.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had been avoiding Buffy. He was fairly certain that she hadn’t been lying to him. There had been more there than just the desire to get even with Riley. Even so, it was impossible for him to think when she was around. His hands went sweaty and his mouth went dry. He got this funny, tight feeling in his chest, so it was hard to breathe too.

 

It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to seek her out after that.

 

He’d managed to move into the apartment a few days early, but it was a depressing place to be alone. He was mostly using it for sleeping and spent the rest of his time at the gallery or at Giles’. As long as Buffy wasn’t around, that is. Tonight, he was going to treat himself to a drink and music. He thought perhaps Jonathan was playing.

 

Spike smiled, thinking of earlier that day. Giles had stopped by the gallery in an ill-concealed bid to see if he was getting on all right. Joyce had given him three Tupperware containers of “leftovers,” telling him that she’d made more than she’d intended. Their concern warmed him more than he could say. He hadn’t had anyone genuinely looking out for his well being since his mother had died.

 

He stepped into the Bronze and moved through the crowded floor, listening to the band. Spike ordered his beer and then leaned back against the bar, watching the couples out on the dance floor and feeling a pang. He half-wondered if Buffy hadn’t made up with Riley by now. It wasn’t like it was the soldier’s fault he was a big git and didn’t know when his girl had switched bodies. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Buffy had come to her senses and forgiven him.

 

Spike took a swig of his beer and nearly spit it out when Buffy materialized in front of him. “Hey.”

 

He swallowed abruptly, choking on the bitter liquid. She obligingly pounded him on the back until he could breathe again. “Hey.”

 

“You want to come sit with us?” she invited, motioning to a table at the edge of the dance floor. Anya and Xander were already there.

 

He hesitated, but there was something in her eyes that drew him. “Uh, sure.” Spike felt shock, mixed with pleasure, when she casually grabbed his hand, leading him through the crowded club.

 

“Look who I found,” Buffy said brightly, plopping down in her seat.

 

Xander smiled in greeting, and Anya gave a little wave. “Hey, Spike. How’s the new apartment?” the boy asked.

 

“Bit quiet,” he confessed.

 

Anya looked puzzled. “More quiet than Giles’ apartment?” she asked. “I wouldn’t think he’d be a very good conversationalist. He’s very British. And reserved.” It apparently hadn’t occurred to her that Spike was British, though not as reserved.

 

Xander coughed in embarrassment, though Spike just smiled. Anya’s frankness amused him more often than not. He knew well enough not to take offense. “It’s a bit different when you’re the only one there,” he explained.

 

“Oh, of course,” Anya said. “You’re lonely. I’ve heard about that. Maybe you should get Buffy to give you orgasms. Then it wouldn’t be so quiet.”

 

That did embarrass Spike, and Buffy blushed a bright red. (The blushing might have also had something to do with a particular dream she’d had about that very thing.) “Anya,” Xander said, warning in his tone. “We talked about this.”

 

“What?” Anya asked, puzzled as to everyone’s reactions. “It’s not as if there isn’t unresolved sexual tension there.”

 

Xander stood. “You know, I think we should get something to drink. Now.” He pulled her away from the table.

 

Both Buffy and Spike were left wanting to look anywhere but at each other. “Well, that wasn’t at all awkward,” Spike finally said, just to break the silence.

 

They looked at each other and both began to grin. “Leave it to Anya,” Buffy agreed. “I’m sorry about the other night,” she said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”

 

Spike nodded. “It’s all right. It just happened. We should just forget about it.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“Huh?” Spike wasn’t quite sure he got that.

 

“I don’t want to forget about it. I mean, you were right, but it wasn’t all about Riley,” Buffy said. “I want to start over. We were doing okay before as friends. Maybe we could just start there and find out where it goes.”

 

Spike frowned, realizing that the implication was that they were going somewhere. “Where do we start? As friends, I mean?” he asked. “Haven’t really done this before, you know.”

 

Buffy smiled. “For starters, you could buy me a drink.”

 

Spike returned her smile, rolling his eyes slightly. “I see where this is going, Slayer,” he said, but he didn’t protest. “Diet Coke?”

 

It was exactly right. “That would be nice.”

 

Willow and Tara were around, though they were mostly together and off to the side. Spike knew that the togetherness that hummed between them was getting harder and harder to hide from the group. Soon, he knew, Willow would have to come clean, but it was nice to see the two of them happy.

 

Spike felt himself relaxing more over the couple hours spent in the company of Buffy and her friends than he thought possible. He was having a very hard time not laughing at Xander and Anya’s antics.

 

“If it comes down to a fight, my money’s on Anya,” Buffy whispered in his ear as the two argued about whether or not Anya had moaned Jonathan’s name in bed.

 

Spike smirked. “There are some things I just didn’t want to know. Like who says what in the throes of passion.”

 

Jonathan came up to the stage, looking dapper as always. “I’d like to dedicate this next song to a very good friend of mine who’s been going through a rough patch.”

 

The band took up the strains of “Fools Rush In,” and Spike glanced over at Buffy. It was a perfectly appropriate song, because he certainly felt like a fool, standing and holding out his hand to Buffy. He might as well have held out his heart, and that never seemed to turn out well for him. “Do friends dance?” he asked with a smile.

 

“I don’t know. But if they don’t, I think I can make an exception for you.” Buffy took his hand and stood. Spike led her out onto the dance floor and took her into his arms, one hand on Buffy’s waist, the other intertwining her fingers with his.

 

Jonathan’s voice crooned in the background. “Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread. And so I come to you, my love, my heart above my head. Though I see the danger there, if there’s a chance for me, I do not care.”

 

“I haven’t danced like this in a long time,” Spike confessed.

 

“How long?” Buffy asked, suddenly wanting to know more, wanting to know him as well as he knew her. The little things as well as the deep stuff.

 

He frowned in thought. “Before the wheelchair anyway.”

 

“That is a long time,” Buffy agreed. “So how is it getting back in the saddle?”

 

“Like riding a bicycle,” Spike replied.

 

The song continued to float in the background. “Do you miss her?” Buffy asked suddenly.

 

“Miss who?”

 

“Drusilla.”

 

He gave the question the serious consideration it deserved. “Not really. Not now. Feels like a dream, sometimes—being a vampire, I mean. Every day that goes by, it gets harder to remember what it felt like. Every time I walk out in the sun that I don’t fear getting burned up, makes it that much more unreal. Dru—Dru’s like this dream I had once.” Spike ran a hand over Buffy’s hair. “Right now, everything about what I was before doesn’t seem real.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to say something even as the song ended—perhaps to tell Spike how glad she was that he wasn’t a vampire anymore. How nice it was that they could dance together at the Bronze like the two very normal people that they weren’t.

 

Of course, that’s when Karen rushed in.

 

Spike had no illusions about his ability to do much in the Slayer realm. Besides, even if Buffy and Jonathan couldn’t handle it, Riley and his soldier-boys would be the ones called in. Jonathan’s position as a special consultant to the army ensured he got whatever cooperation he needed, any time he wanted it.

 

He listened to Karen’s story, feeling a vague annoyance with Jonathan for stepping in so quickly. And at Buffy for letting him. She was the Slayer, she didn’t need some little—Spike stopped that thought. What was he thinking? This was Jonathan. That explained everything.

 

Spike pulled her off to the side when it looked as though she had a minute. “Listen, luv, I’m going to take off now. You won’t need me for this.”

 

Buffy really did want to argue with him. Spike had been a great deal of help in the past, with Giles and the demon thing, and of course with Faith’s body-switching. On the other hand, she had Jonathan, and he was bound to call in the army. Spike and Riley so didn’t need to cross paths at this point.

 

“Okay,” she finally replied reluctantly. “You could still come if you wanted to, you know.”

 

He shook his head. “I’d just be in the way. I’ll see you around.” Spike walked off, and for a second, Buffy could almost see the confident swagger he used to put on. After a few steps, however, it was gone, replaced by the walk of a very tired man.

 

Biting her lip, Buffy went back to the performance of her Slayer duties. It never crossed her mind to wonder why, if she was the Slayer, Jonathan needed to be there. Or, alternatively, if Jonathan was Jonathan, why they needed the Slayer at all.

 

~~~~~

 

“How do you bloody well expect me to starve to death if you keep feeding me?” Spike asked with a bemused smile. Joyce had pressed yet more leftovers onto him, and he wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or grateful. “I can cook, you know,” he insisted.

 

Joyce gave him a stern look. “That might be true,” she admitted, though her voice said she thought otherwise. “But you’re here most of the time, and I know you’re still helping Mr. Giles and my daughter when you can. When do you have time to cook?”

 

It was a legitimate point, and it would have been completely on target, if Spike had even had the money for much more than peanut butter and Ramen noodles. In another month, he’d be caught up on bills and could afford some decent food, but until he made that money back, he was going to be eating lightly. Unless, of course, Joyce had anything to say about it.

 

He sighed. “Don’t want you worrying about me, Joyce. I’ll be quite alright.” Spike turned earnest blue eyes up to meet hers. “Really.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” she said sincerely. “But, really, Spike. You’re too thin. I took care of Buffy when she let me. I took care of her friends too. This isn’t about charity.”

 

Spike was fighting a war between a grin and a scowl. On the one hand, he wanted to protest that he didn’t need a mother, he’d been doing just fine without one for over a century. He also enjoyed her attention way too much to insist that she stop. “If you insist,” he finally said.

 

“Good,” she stated. “Because I do insist.” Joyce reached out and smoothed an errant curl from his forehead. He really was such a sweet boy, and not so very different than the vampire that had shown up on her doorstep, not with her anyway. The bell on the front door rang, and she left the back office to see to the customer as Spike put his three new meals in the fridge. He really shouldn’t complain. Joyce’s generosity saw to it that he was eating decently at least once a day.

 

Joyce was surprised to see her daughter at the door. Buffy had come by the gallery more often since Spike had started working there than she ever had in the previous three years combined. Not that it surprised her at all. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said, giving her daughter a warm hug. “I’m guessing you’re here to see Spike.”

 

Buffy gave her a shamefaced smile. “Yeah. I know I haven’t been by much lately.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Joyce said. “I remember what it was like when I was in college, so I certainly don’t begrudge you your freedom. That’s what it’s all about.” She got a concerned look on her face. “There isn’t anything wrong, is there?”

 

Buffy shook her head emphatically. “Nope. Nothing wrong. I just came by to see your favorite employee. Do you think I could steal him for a while?”

 

Joyce could tell by the look in Buffy’s eyes that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. On the other hand, when had Buffy told her the _whole_ truth? Even after she had found out about her daughter’s identity as the Slayer, Joyce had still never known much of what was really going on. While she knew it was Buffy’s method of protecting her, Joyce also wished she knew her daughter a little better. “Better yet, steal him for the entire day,” Joyce replied in a whisper. “Spike could probably use a little time off.”

 

Buffy smiled. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

 

Spike looked up from his work with a smile when he heard her come in. And for a second he thought she might have come just to say hello. His smile dimmed just a bit when he heard her next words. “I need your help.”

 

Spike bit back a sigh. The day that the Slayer didn’t come to him because she needed something would probably be the day the world ended. “What’s that?”

 

“I need your help with some research.”

 

He frowned slightly. “Isn’t that more your Watcher’s purview, Buffy? Don’t know how much help I could be.”

 

Buffy hesitated. How could she tell him that she suspected Jonathan of a major cover-up? Or maybe it was just a little cover-up. In either case, she shouldn’t be suspecting Jonathan of anything at all. When she’d broached the subject to Giles, even vaguely, he’d immediately seized upon Jonathan’s name and told her that he was certain it would be taken care of in time.

 

She was the Slayer though. If some monster was loose, and Jonathan wasn’t going to do anything about it, it was her responsibility. The only person she could think of that might be able to help her, that she could trust completely, and who would probably go to the end of the world for her—was Spike.

 

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

 

Spike stared at her like she’d just grown a second head. “Of course I trust you. What’s going on?”

 

“I think there’s something loose in Sunnydale,” Buffy said, then explained the situation with Karen the night before. “That same thing came and attacked Tara too,” she said, knowing that would get his attention. “We need to find this thing.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Still don’t see where I come in,” he admitted. “You’ve got Jonathan and whatever soldiers you need to do your bidding.”

 

“Jonathan said whatever that mark on the thing’s head was, it wasn’t important. But I think it might be.” Buffy made the last statement with a bit of defiance, used to having everyone question her abilities and go straight to, well, Jonathan.

 

“Okay,” Spike said simply.

 

Buffy stared at him. “Okay?”

 

“Okay,” he agreed. “I trust you. You say it’s important, we’ll look it up.” Spike glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let’s go grab lunch,” he suggested. “We can figure out the plan while we eat.”

 

~~~~~

 

They didn’t get much planning done for a while, however. Spike and Buffy took their leave of her mom, who told them to give her regards to that “wonderful young man, Jonathan,” and especially to tell him how much she liked the new CD. After that, they just got to talking about strange experiences on the Hellmouth. There happened to be a lot of stories.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Spike said with an incredulous look. “Rayne, the bloke that turned Giles into a Fyarl, is the same guy that had something to do with Rupert sleeping with your mum?”

 

Buffy hid a grin. “Band candy,” she agreed. “You should have seen Giles. He was a little like you as a vampire, only not quite as evil.”

 

“But all the grown-ups were actin’ like teenagers?” Spike sighed. “I would’ve liked to see that,” he admitted. “Must have been right entertaining.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “More like disturbing. And Ethan was also responsible for turning people into their Halloween costumes. But you were around for that one.”

 

“That was neat,” Spike said, smiling as he remembered that night. He saw the look on Buffy’s face. “At the time, it was!” he defended himself.

 

Buffy couldn’t hide a smile. It hadn’t been “neat,” as he’d called it, but putting herself in his shoes at the time, she could understand why he might say that. It had come in handy though, in the long run. The Judge would probably still be alive if Xander hadn’t had his brilliant idea, along with the knowledge and the means to see it through. “I get your point,” she said.

 

Getting down to business finally, Spike looked suddenly serious. “So how are we going to go about this?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “I have no idea where to start looking for this symbol and what it means.”

 

“Let’s see it then,” Spike said, watching as she drew it on one of the napkins. He frowned, studying it for a couple minutes in silence. “Think I know where to start looking, knowing what we know, anyway.”

 

“What we know?” Buffy asked blankly, not understanding.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “If this is about Jonathan, and he knows what it is, then he might be behind it. And if he’s behind it, it’s got everything to do with who he is.”

 

“You actually believe me?” Buffy asked.

 

Spike shrugged. “It doesn’t feel right, Jonathan being the bad guy, but I’m willing to suspend my disbelief if you think that’s the right thing to do. Besides, I was bored at Giles’ usually. I think I remember seeing that when I was flipping through one of his books.”

 

“Can you get into Giles apartment?”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow, looking at her as though she’d just asked a stupid question. “I’ve still got my key. But that doesn’t help us if Giles is there. How are we supposed to explain that we need his books and not him?”

 

Buffy smiled. “Leave that to me. We’ll go, you tell him that you think you left a shirt there or something, and then you start looking while I provide the distraction. Trust me. It works like a charm.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy was trying hard not to giggle as they walked down the street towards Spike’s apartment. Giles had been at home, but between the two of them they had managed to keep him from realizing that they were borrowing a few of his books. The Slayer hadn’t been happy to find out Spike’s car was back at his apartment building, and they’d be stuck carrying several heavy volumes on foot, but the whole gig had been like old times, with her providing the distraction and someone else doing the grabbing. It had been fun.

 

Spike looked over at Buffy and frowned. She was obviously doing her best not to laugh, and she seemed positively giddy about something. “What’s up, luv?”

 

She gave him a wide grin. “I haven’t done that since—” Buffy faltered. She wasn’t sure she should bring up the last time she’d stolen books from Giles.

 

Spike looked at her expectantly. “Since when?”

 

“Since that Halloween Ethan Rayne turned us into our costumes,” she admitted. “I distracted Giles so Willow could sneak into his office and steal the Watcher’s diaries. I wanted to find out what kind of girls Angel liked when he was our age.” Buffy could see the change come over Spike’s face, and she immediately knew what had caused it. That was one of the problems with being with Spike. Riley had never known about Angel, and Buffy really wasn’t planning on telling him any time in the near (or distant) future. But Spike knew. He’d been there through the whole thing, even if he had been on the opposing team.

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

Spike scowled. “Do what?”

 

“Don’t look like that,” Buffy replied. “I’ve moved on, Spike. If you can say Drusilla’s name, I can say Angel’s name.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” he replied. “You don’t just bleeding ‘move on’ from things like that.”

 

Buffy shrugged. “Fine. Then I’ve accepted it. I can’t be with Angel. Angel can’t be with me. There isn’t anything either one of us can do about it. So what’s the point in not at least trying to just deal?”

 

“What if we could figure out what the Initiative used on me?” Spike demanded. “What if we could find it and use it on Angel too? What then?”

 

Buffy had thought about it. She’d had several sleepless nights thinking about it. Spike was right, in a way. You didn’t just move on from your first love. They stayed with you, became a part of you, until they were a piece of everything you did and thought and felt. But at the same time, Buffy wondered if it would really ever work. There was so much that had happened, so much between them. And, in the end, Angel had left. He had gone without even saying good-bye, because that’s what he felt was what was best for her. Buffy wasn’t sure she would ever be able to see him again without remembering that scene at the high school, seeing his back through the smoke.

 

“I don’t know,” she stated quietly. “But Angel gave up, Spike. He left.”

 

Spike stared at her. They had paused in front of his building, and now he studied her face as though he had never seen it before. Perhaps he hadn’t, because there was something in her eyes that seemed different. “Dru left. She said—she didn’t want me anymore.” Spike wasn’t quite ready to tell her what Drusilla had really said. “I would have stayed with her until I turned to dust.”

 

“I know.” There was a shared understanding there. They had both lost their first loves; their hearts were no longer completely their own. Someone else would always own a piece of them.

 

It was Spike who broke the moment first. “I have to warn you,” he said, motioning her inside the front door, which did not lock. “It’s not much.”

 

“That’s okay. Just as long as I don’t see any roaches, we’ll be fine.”

 

“Haven’t seen any of those yet,” Spike replied. He led her up the stairs to his door, 2C, and unlocked it, allowing her to enter first. He couldn’t see her face, so her first impression was a mystery to him.

 

Buffy wasn’t all that impressed. The apartment itself wasn’t much, as he’d warned her, but it wasn’t horrible. Maybe it was a little on the small side, but with a few homey touches, it might be livable. The paint would have to go, though; it was a truly nasty shade of off-white.

 

What made the whole place depressing was the lack of—anything. There weren’t any pictures on the walls, the only piece of furniture was a ratty green chair in the middle of the living room, and looking back through the open door of the bedroom suggested that it wasn’t much better back there. “You know, if you decorated, the place wouldn’t be all that bad.”

 

Spike smiled ruefully. “Landlord wanted three months rent up front since I didn’t have much in the way of credit,” he replied. “I’ll decorate when I get a bit of cash, yeah?”

 

Buffy frowned. She wondered what else he was doing without in order to pay three months rent up front, but it wasn’t any of her business. “Well, I might not be Martha Stewart, but I can use a paint brush,” she offered.

 

“Thanks,” he replied. He sat down on the floor, waving her to take the chair. “Let’s see if we can find that symbol you’re looking for.”

 

Buffy plopped down in front of him. “Good.” She grabbed the first book and started flipping through it. Spike had taken the five he thought most likely to have contained the symbol. All of them were books on spells, and most had some symbol associated with them.

 

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Buffy had explained to Spike on the way to the deli where they’d had lunch. “Doesn’t it seem weird that Jonathan’s so good at everything? He graduated from med school, and he’s only 18. He starred in the Matrix, but he never left town.”

 

Spike had simply looked at her and said quietly, and with perfect sincerity, “Buffy, he’s Jonathan. But if you think something fishy’s going on, then I trust you.”

 

Buffy flipped another page and looked over at Spike who was squinting at the small print on a page in his own book. When on earth had he started trusting her like that? “You can put your glasses on, you know,” she told him. “I’m not going to make nasty comments or anything.”

 

He glanced up at her, then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Right. Didn’t think about it.” Spike reached into the pocket of his dark blue, button down shirt and put the glasses on, then went back to reading.

 

Buffy flipped a few more pages and then glanced back up to see Spike staring at her. When he saw her look up, his eyes flashed down to his page, as though he’d been reading the whole time. Buffy went back to reading as well, but again she looked up and her eyes caught his.

 

“What are we doing, Buffy?”

 

“Researching,” she replied flippantly.

 

He shook his head. “No. I mean what are _we_ doing? You and me?”

 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “Does it matter?”

 

“Yeah,” Spike said honestly. “It really does.”

 

Buffy frowned. She wanted to do the “play it by ear” thing. Wasn’t it the girl who usually asked where a relationship was going and the guy who didn’t want to talk about it? “We’re friends. We’re seeing where this is going.”

 

“Where can this go?” he asked. “Buffy, I was a vampire up until a couple months ago. You hated me till a few days ago—”

 

“More than a few days ago,” she corrected him.

 

Spike didn’t seem to hear her. “You just broke up with your boyfriend. Doesn’t that make me the rebound guy?”

 

“The rebound guy?” Buffy stared at him.

 

“Isn’t that what they call it?” he demanded. “When you start a new relationship right after an old one?” Buffy reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away and moved to where she couldn’t reach him. She stared at him, hurt.

 

“Don’t,” Spike said shortly. “I can’t think when you’re touching me.”

 

Buffy was oddly flattered, despite the sting of his withdrawal. It was nice to hear you could stop a guy’s mental processes with just a casual touch. “Fine, Spike. What do you want me to tell you?”

 

“Tell me this isn’t some way to get over your soldier,” he pleaded. “I dunno. Tell me I mean something to you, something more than just needing my help every so often. I—you know how I feel about you.”

 

There was a naked vulnerability in Spike’s eyes. It was, she realized suddenly, how he had managed to capture the hearts of everyone she knew. In the same instant, Buffy realized that she could destroy him with a word, more surely than she would have been able to with a stake when he was a vampire.

 

Buffy looked away, and Spike thought perhaps he had ruined it. He was always and forever doing that: opening himself up to failure with a girl beyond his reach. She looked back to meet his eyes. “You’re not the rebound guy, Spike. If you want to get real technical, Parker was the rebound guy.”

 

Spike blinked, not recognizing the name, and then turned a deep shade of red as he remembered who Buffy was referring to. And, not incidentally, remembered the first time he had faced her in sunlight. “Buffy—”

 

“You could also say that Riley was the rebound guy from Parker,” Buffy said, as though he had never interrupted her. “You don’t qualify, since I was the one that broke up with Riley. At least, I think that’s how it works.” She looked at him, waiting silently until he met her eyes. “You’re the guy who saw me, who really saw me, when no one else did. You tell me what that makes you.”

 

Spike swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” he said. “How can I tell you that, when I don’t even know who I am?”

 

“You’ll figure it out.” Buffy scooted closer to him. “I don’t have any doubt about that.” He was still silent, and she could see his own doubts swimming in his eyes. They were pools she could happily drown in. With a gentle hand, she drew his face down to hers, their lips meeting for a tentative, chaste kiss. She didn’t think he was ready for much more than that yet.

 

Spike pulled back slightly and let his forehead rest against hers. Words seemed inadequate, and so he stayed silent, even though he had never had trouble in the past finding the right thing to say. (Or sometimes precisely the wrong thing.)

 

He glanced over at his book, to where the pages had flipped open, revealing the symbol they had been searching for. “And there it is,” he said quietly, breaking the moment.

 

Buffy followed his eyes and gave a soft chuckle. “Yep. Apparently kissing and research do go together. Just wait till we tell Giles about this new breakthrough.”

 

“It’s an augmentation spell,” Spike said quietly, skimming the text. “It makes the wizard into a paragon, everyone’s ideal. In order to balance things out though, the spell also creates the wizard’s opposite—everyone’s nightmare.”

 

Buffy frowned. “The monster. But—does this mean Jonathan did a spell to make us think he’s cool? That’s what created the monster?”

 

“Looks like.” Spike was troubled. “In that case, it’s hard to say what the ‘real world’ looks like, what Jonathan’s really like.”

 

Buffy considered that for a minute. “Do you have the Jonathan swimsuit calendar?” Spike gave her a horrified look. “All right, sorry I asked. It’s just, I think I’ve seen this on him before. If I could just look to double-check.”

 

Spike sighed. “Just a minute.” He disappeared out the front door of his apartment and reappeared about five minutes later. “Mrs. Wolsinski next door’s a big fan,” he explained, holding out the calendar to her. “Figured she might let me borrow it for a few minutes, especially since I told her I’d get Jonathan’s autograph.”

 

Buffy quickly flipped through to July, and then held the picture out to Spike. He nodded grimly. “Yeah, that pretty much clinches it,” he agreed. He gave her a half-smile. “Better return this real quick before she starts having heart palpitations.”

 

When he came back, Buffy looked up from the text, focusing on Spike. “The book says that Jonathan and the monster are connected. If we kill the monster, everything will go back to normal.”

 

“Then we’ll go kill the monster,” Spike said.

 

Buffy looked surprised, and then worried. “Do you think we can?”

 

“You can,” he said simply. “You’re the Slayer, Buffy, in this world or any other. Just give you a pointy object and point you in the right direction, and the job’ll get done.”

 

“But Jonathan—”

 

“Jonathan’s Jonathan,” Spike replied. “You’re the Slayer. This time, you’re the one who gets to show ‘em how it’s done.”

 

Buffy nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “Okay. So point me in the right direction.”

 

“Who, me?” Spike asked.

 

Buffy smiled. “You’re the smart one, right?”

 

“Right,” Spike muttered, looking at the explanation of the spell again. “You think you’re up to beating the info out of somebody?”

 

Buffy hesitated. She usually watched Jonathan beat the information out of people. “I don’t know.” Spike regarding her calmly, his face holding an infinite patience. “Yes. I mean, absolutely. Willy’s?”

 

“Sounds like a fair place to start,” Spike said. He frowned slightly. “Some of ‘em might still know me there.”

 

Buffy shrugged. “So what? You’ll be with the Slayer.”  


~~~~~

 

“That was kind of fun,” Buffy said as they made their way to the hills where Willy had said he’d heard some vampires had gotten kicked out of a cave.

 

Spike smirked. “That’s my girl.”

 

Buffy threw him a look, but decided to let it go for now. It wasn’t like she minded the endearment. “Shouldn’t we—”

 

“Buffy. What are you doing out here?” Jonathan seemed to appear from nowhere in front of them. “And Spike. It’s a little late to be going for a stroll.”

 

“We were looking for a beast,” Spike replied.

 

Buffy could feel Spike at her side, a tangible presence. “We found the spell, Jonathan. We need to kill it.”

 

Jonathan looked from one to the other. “I guess you guys figured out that you make a great team,” he said. He sighed. “I’ll come with you. As the beast’s power wanes, the Slayer will get stronger.”

 

“Let’s get this done,” Buffy replied, trying to portray more confidence than she was actually feeling. As she followed Jonathan, she felt Spike’s hand sneak into hers, and she gave it a squeeze.

 

The cave loomed before them and all three could hear inarticulate growls and menacing sounds from the interior. “Maybe you should stay out here,” Buffy suggested to Spike.

 

“Forget it,” he said firmly. “I’m going in with you.”

 

“All right,” Buffy replied. “But try to stay out of the way.”

 

It was really the first time Spike had watched a fight that he wasn’t involved in. Fighting should not be a spectator sport, as far as Spike was concerned, but without some sort of weapon he wouldn’t be much use. Watching was interesting, however, because he could see the ebb and flow of a fight in a way you couldn’t see it while you were right in the middle. Buffy visibly weakened as the beast won the fight, while Jonathan became nothing more than a frightened nancy-boy when Buffy was winning.

 

Buffy was thrown down next to the chasm at some point during the fight, and Spike realized that the monster was going to be able to finish her off. With a deep growl, he mustered a burst of speed. He and Jonathan hit the beast at the same time, sending it flying over the edge. Spike managed to catch himself, but Jonathan wasn’t so lucky. It was only the supernatural reflexes of the Slayer that saved him from taking a long fall.

 

They all felt it at the same time, as the spell was broken. Spike and Buffy stared at each other, ignoring the trembling Jonathan, who was badly shaken. “You alright, luv?” Spike asked. Things were falling into place now, memories of perpetrating things against her as a vampire, while in the altered world Jonathan had been the target.

 

Buffy nodded. She reached out and touched his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “You look ready to drop, and we need to make sure everybody else is okay.”

 

They both looked at Jonathan, who seemed to be waiting for the ax to fall. As well he might. Buffy and Spike looked at each other, and Spike, who knew a little something about wanting to be other than you were, shook his head. “Let’s go, Jonathan. We’ll walk you home.”

 

~~~~~

 

The next day, Spike was still shaking his head, thinking about the world Jonathan had created for himself. Everyone seemed to be feeling a vague disappointment, though no one could really say why. Xander had probably taken it the hardest. Buffy had spoken with the gang the night before, but he had debriefed Joyce when he arrived at the gallery the next morning. He’d come to realize that Joyce often got the short end of the stick when it came to explanations.

 

Lunchtime rolled around, and the bell above the door rang. Spike turned to greet the customer, only to see Buffy watching him. “Buffy. What’s wrong? Another apocalypse coming?”

 

“Nope,” Buffy replied. “I just thought you might want some lunch.” She held up a brown paper sack. “And maybe some company,” she added.

 

Spike frowned in confusion, trying to decipher the motivation behind that. And, slowly, it dawned on him that she just wanted to spend time with him. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be right nice.”

 

A/N: About the following chapter: I never did like this episode (Where the Wild Things Are). It had some great stuff, don’t get me wrong, but something about Riley and Buffy “doing it” for the entire episode just didn’t do much for me. So if you’re wondering what’s going on…well, don’t look at the ep. This is pretty much all me. Except for Giles singing, because that was too good not to use.


	10. Fever Dreams

**“What am I to you?/Tell me darling true/To me you are the sea/Vast as you can be/And deep the shade of blue/When you’re feeling low/To whom else do you go?/I’d cry if you hurt/I’d give you my last shirt/Because I love you so/Now if my sky should fall/Would you even call?/I’ve opened up my heart/I never want to part/I’m giving you the ball.” ~Nora Jones, “What Am I To You?”**

 

Spike shifted the books underneath his arm and knocked on Giles’ door. He still felt bad about basically stealing the Watcher’s books without even letting him know what was going on, and then he hadn’t had a chance to return them until now. Joyce had sent him home from the gallery early since he’d opened that morning, and this afternoon seemed as good a time to stop by as any.

 

“Spike, come in,” Giles said, opening the door and stepping aside to let Spike enter.

 

The other man hefted the books so Giles could see. “Came to return these,” he explained.

 

“Of course,” Giles said. “Just set them anywhere.”

 

Spike hesitated. “I’m sorry ‘bout just taking them like that.”

 

“Don’t be a git,” Giles replied. “You and Buffy did a good job. There’s nothing to apologize for. Though, in the future, I would rather be kept in the loop.” He took a closer look at Spike’s face, and found it rather too pale. “Are you alright, William? You look a bit off.”

 

Spike shrugged. “A bit tired, and my head hurts some. It’ll pass.”

 

Giles waved him to a chair. “Sit for a while. I’ll make us some tea.”

 

Spike sat, listening to the sounds of dishes being moved in the kitchen. It was a homey, relaxing sound. He really did miss having another person around sometimes, someone to pull him out of his own—usually melancholy—thoughts. The guitar leaning up against the chair caught his eye and, unable to resist, he reached over and snagged it. “You play?”

 

“Not as well as I would like, I’m afraid,” Giles replied from behind him, knowing what he was referring to. “Do you?”

 

Spike cradled the instrument in his hands and struck a chord. It sounded a bit off, and he adjusted his fingers and tried again. This time it rang true, and he shook his head with a rueful smile as Giles came around and put his cup in front of him. “No. Didn’t have the patience.” He handed the guitar over, and then admitted. “Play the piano a bit though. Learned when I was just a lad.”

 

Giles considered for a moment, running his hands over the strings. Singing at the Espresso Pump was an activity he didn’t really want to share with the group at large, but he had a feeling Spike might understand, not being wholly young himself. “I’m playing at the Espresso Pump tomorrow night.”

 

“Are you?” Spike seemed surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He settled back in his chair. “Let’s have a song then.”

 

Giles raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Let’s have a song,” Spike repeated. “You’ve got to practice, yeah? Be much better to find out how badly you’re going to do in front of an audience before it’s more than one of your mates.”

 

Giles shook his head, but ran his fingers along the strings, breaking into the opening chords for “Behind Blue Eyes,” which he was planning on playing anyway. Spike closed his eyes, listening to the rather moody words and notes. Giles’ voice was mellow and pleasant, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the music. “Good band,” Spike murmured as the song ended. “Saw them in concert in London once.”

 

“Did you now?” Giles asked. Since Spike hadn’t said anything about his singing or playing, Giles thought it must not have been too bad. He started running through his repertoire of songs, and occasionally, Spike would join him, his rough baritone a nice counter to Giles’ smoother tenor. Giles decided that Spike’s singing talent didn’t surprise him. He wasn’t sure there was much at all that Spike could surprise him with anymore.

 

After a while, Giles fingers grew tired, and he decided to give them a rest. “And there you have it,” he said. “By the way, you don’t have to mention this to anyone.”

 

Spike smirked, though his eyes remained closed. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. You’re not half bad.”

 

Giles harrumphed. “Yes, well, I have a feeling that the others wouldn’t understand.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Spike agreed, his eyes blinking open. There was a weariness there that hit Giles hard. “They’re young yet.”

 

Giles stared at Spike. It hadn’t happened much recently, but every so often, he was reminded of what Spike had been, of the years that lay on his shoulders. It was history that bound them, the passing of years and of eras, and the understanding that they were not what they had once been. Their eyes met, and Ripper and Spike were in perfect understanding. “Yes, they are,” he agreed finally. Then, looking at the clock, he said, “Go home, Spike. Get some rest. You look as though you could use several days’ worth.”

 

Spike merely shrugged and smiled, though he did as he was told, shrugging into his jacket. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said abruptly, standing before the door. “And you’ll do alright. Sounds more than halfway decent really.”

 

Giles felt an odd glow of satisfaction that lasted long after Spike had left.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stood in front of the door to 2C with a feeling of trepidation. It was stupid really. She had seen Spike a couple days ago and he had been fine. At the same time, however, her mom _had_ called to ask her to check on him. Spike didn’t just not show up, and since he didn’t have a phone, it wasn’t like Joyce could call. Buffy was closer to his apartment, and without anyone to watch the gallery, Joyce couldn’t leave.  

 

She hesitated and then knocked, waiting for an answer. After a couple minutes went by, and no one came to the door, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Starting to get really concerned, she briefly considered breaking in, but since that would require actually breaking something, Buffy discarded that idea. There had to be another way inside…

 

“Can I help you?” Buffy turned to see an oily looking man staring at her. He was looking at her as though he had x-ray vision, and Buffy suppressed a shiver of distaste, reminding herself that she could break his fingers off if he actually tried to touch her.

 

“Yeah, I’m—” she paused briefly. She’d had lunch with Spike the other day, and while they weren’t dating yet, they were definitely heading in that direction. “I’m his girlfriend,” she said firmly. “He didn’t show up for work today, and he’s not answering his door. I’m worried about him.”

 

The man leered at her. “Mebbe he just doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, and she shot him a glare that had frightened braver men than he. “I don’t think so. Now, can you help me or not?”

 

“Fine,” the man grumbled, pulling out a set of keys. As the Slayer had hoped, he was the landlord. Spike had described him as “smarmy,” and Buffy thought it was a perfect descriptor. “Just don’t come crying to me if you get an eyeful of something you don’t want to see.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently. As if. When the landlord had unlocked the door, Buffy shot him an insincerely saccharine smile, and thanked him, shutting the door firmly behind her.

 

“Buffy? What are you doin’ here?” Spike appeared out of his bedroom, looking harried and tired, his face flushed.

 

“I was checking on you,” she replied. “Mom called me and asked me to stop by when you didn’t show up today.”

 

Spike shook his head. “Dunno what happened. Must have slept right through the alarm. I’m on my way now.”

 

Buffy frowned. Something was off. She marched up to him and put a hand on his forehead, her frown deepening further when she realized how hot he was. Temperature-wise. “Spike, you’ve got a fever. There’s no way you’re going in today. How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” he insisted, pulling back from her. At her look, he sighed. “d’ve got a bit of a headache an’ a sore throat,” Spike finally confessed. “And the rest of me doesn’t feel all that great either, but I’m perfectly fine, Buffy.”

 

He picked that moment to sway, dizzy, and Buffy put a hand on his arm. “Right. You’re fine. Sit.” She steered him over to the lone chair in his living room and sat him down. “Spike, I know your boss, and her mom-dar is top of the line.”

 

“Huh?” He stared at her blankly.

 

“Her mom-dar,” Buffy explained. “You know, mom radar. The thing that tells moms if their kids are sick, and if they are, if they’re too sick to go to school. Trust me, Mom’s going to take one look at you and send you home. You might as well save yourself the trip.”

 

Spike shook his head. “I should go. She needs me.” It was a weak protest even to his own ears.

 

“Forget it,” Buffy retorted, though her tone was gentle. “Look, I’ll get you something to drink. You need to keep yourself hydrated. Then I’ll call Mom, tell her what’s the what.” She ignored the last of his protests and went into the kitchen to see if she could find some juice for him. Opening the fridge soon revealed that he didn’t have much by the way of food. Two Tupperware containers of leftovers were the only things in there.

 

Buffy opened the other cupboards slowly, not wanting to make a lot of noise to let Spike know she was snooping. Peanut butter and Ramen noodles. She opened another door, found the glasses, and filled it with water. Taking it back to Spike, she asked, “Where’s the nearest payphone?”

 

“On the corner,” he replied, in between thirsty gulps. “Just up the street.” He had a sudden realization. “How’d you get in, Slayer?”

 

“Your landlord,” she explained. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Buffy walked the block to the gas station and plugged a quarter into the phone. “Hey, Mom.”

 

“Hi, honey,” Joyce replied. “How is Spike? Did you find him?”

 

“He was at home, but it looks like he’s got a pretty nasty case of the flu.” Buffy rolled her eyes, forgetting that her mother couldn’t see the gesture. “He thought he was going to come into work.”

 

Joyce shook her head. “He should know better than that.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Buffy replied. “I peeked in the cupboards, and he really doesn’t have much in the way of food either.”

 

Joyce made a little sound of disapproval. “I wondered,” she stated, though she didn’t go into detail about why she had suspected anything. “Spike can’t stay at his apartment. He doesn’t have a phone, and if he needed help or anything…”

 

Buffy had already considered that scenario. “I know. I was going to call Giles. I don’t think we should take him to the doctor unless we have to since he really doesn’t have any medical records or anything like that.”

 

“Go ahead and call Mr. Giles,” Joyce said. “But I think you should take him back to the house. I have an extra bed and he doesn’t. I just think that might be better for everyone.”

 

Buffy thought about it for a second, and decided that it wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, Giles already had his apartment overrun at all hours with Scoobies. Her mom’s house would be quieter. “Sure, mom. Giles can give both of us a ride over there, and I’ll stay with him this afternoon. Hopefully, he’ll sleep, but it’s no fun being by yourself when you’re sick.”

 

She said her good-byes and then hung up and called Giles, quickly explaining the situation to him. He agreed to come over immediately, and she headed back to Spike’s apartment. He was half-dozing in the chair when she got back, and Buffy picked the glass up off the floor and put it in the sink.

 

“Buffy?”

 

“I’m right here,” she said, coming over to stand next to him. “Mom said don’t even think about coming in, and she wants you at our house so someone can keep an eye on you. Giles is coming over to give his verdict and to give us a ride.”

 

“Don’t want anyone to make a fuss,” he argued.

 

Buffy shook her head, touching one of the damp curls lying along his forehead. “It’s not about making a fuss, it’s about taking care of you. You’ve had people take care of you before, haven’t you?” she asked, teasingly.

 

“Not like this,” he replied, in perfect seriousness.

 

Buffy put a hand to the side of his face. “Well, get used to it. You’re part of the gang now, so you get taken care of just like everybody else.”

 

He smiled slightly, and his eyes drifted shut. “I’m just going to get some clothes for you,” Buffy said, but he didn’t reply. She sighed. She remembered being that sick a couple years before, when Angel had been going through his soulless stage. She was hoping, however, that Spike wouldn’t wind up in the hospital like she did.

 

Buffy managed to get some clean, comfortable clothes for him before Giles came. He knocked on the door and then stepped inside, per Buffy’s instructions. The Watcher looked around the apartment and winced. “Good Lord, I had forgotten how miserable first flats could be,” he muttered. Turning towards Spike, he glanced over at Buffy. “How is he?”

 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, old man?” Spike said without opening his eyes. “I might be a bit under the weather, but I’m still capable of answering questions.”

 

“Well, I guess that answers the question of what kind of patient Spike makes,” Buffy quipped.

 

Giles smiled and walked over to Spike, placing a hand on his forehead. “You should have told me you were feeling this badly yesterday,” he scolded.

 

“Wasn’t feeling this bad,” Spike replied calmly. “Just not that good.” He looked at Giles with a touch of weary humor. “So what’s the verdict, doc? Will I live?”

 

“I’m certain of it,” Giles replied. “But I think Buffy has the right idea in wanting to move you to her mother’s house. You should at least be within reach of a phone if you take a sudden turn for the worse.”

 

“Thought you said I’d be fine,” Spike said suspiciously.

 

Giles gave him a quelling look. “As Buffy could tell you, the flu is not something to be taken lightly. If the Slayer can find herself hospitalized, a mere human had better take extra precautions.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy got Spike settled in her bed. The spare room was crowded with things her mom was storing for the gallery, and she had no problem putting Spike in her own room. “Get some sleep,” she advised him. “I’ll be around all afternoon.”

 

She didn’t have to say anything at all, since Spike was already drifting off into a restless sleep, curled up in a miserable ball under the covers. Buffy winced in sympathy and then went downstairs to talk to Giles. “Okay. Let’s have it,” she said without preamble.

 

Giles gave her a slight smile and followed her into the kitchen. “Have what?” he asked, though he was fairly certain as to what she meant. They had known each other for too long to not know when one or the other was hiding something. He had been well aware of Buffy’s attempts to distract him the other day, though he hadn’t known what she was trying to accomplish. Giles trusted both Spike and Buffy, and so he hadn’t been too worried about what they were trying to do. It turned out that his instincts had been right on target in that instance.

 

He only hoped that his instincts were not so accurate where it concerned Spike.

 

“Giles,” Buffy’s voice held an unmistakable note of warning. “You’re more worried about Spike than if it was just the flu. So spill.”

 

Giles sighed. “I have every reason to believe that it is simply the flu and that he’ll recover just as quickly as anyone else might. It’s his overall health that I’m concerned about.”

 

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked quietly, starting to feel the first pangs of fear.

 

“We don’t know what the Initiative used to change Spike, or what condition that left him in.” Giles took his glasses off and started polishing them on his shirt. “There have been a number of changes in the last century, not least of which are vaccinations, which Spike hasn’t had. The flu can be dangerous, and we don’t know what Spike’s immune system is like. We don’t know what kind of immunities he does have, or if the Initiative took any steps to prevent him from getting illnesses that we no longer have to be concerned about.”

 

Buffy put one hand to her temple and rubbed tiredly. “So what you’re saying is that Spike might have just gotten turned into a human only to die from some illness that he can’t fight off.”

 

“That isn’t what I said,” Giles replied. “Medical science is much more advanced than it used to be. I’m certain that even if he were to get a serious illness, there would be every possibility of curing him. But his health is a concern, especially since I don’t believe he’s been sleeping or eating well, which certainly doesn’t help.”

 

Buffy looked away, thinking hard. “Great.”

 

“Spike’s condition is not the only thing I’m concerned about, however. We need to start thinking about how we are going to track down this Adam, and hopefully destroy him.”

 

“I know,” Buffy replied. She sighed. “I’ll have to go talk to Riley. He probably won’t be real happy to see me, but we both want Adam stopped. He’ll still help. And while I’m at it, I’ll see if I can get him to dig up some info on what they used on Spike.”

 

“I think that would be wise,” Giles agreed. “Riley is still our best source of information on Adam and the Initiative.”

 

Buffy looked over at Giles in sudden inspiration. “Do you think we could do something with Spike’s apartment?”

 

“Do what?” he asked, puzzled.

 

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know, something to make it more homey or something. While he’s here, it would be the perfect opportunity. Like Trading Spaces, only without the trading.”

 

Giles had no idea what she was talking about, but he could get the general meaning behind her words. “Do you think we should?” he asked doubtfully. “Spike has gone to great lengths to keep certain things private. I’m not sure we should intrude.”

 

Buffy waved a hand dismissively. “Spike’s too proud for his own good,” she said. “He just doesn’t want to be a burden. If we do it on a strictly voluntary basis, it should be okay. Besides, you saw his place. At the very least, it could use a good coat of paint and a carpet cleaning. That’s not that big of a deal.”

 

Giles still wasn’t sure what he thought of her idea, but decided to let it go. Buffy would do what she wanted; she usually did. “Very well. I have somewhere to be tonight, but I wouldn’t mind helping out. As long as Spike knows it wasn’t my idea.”

 

“Chicken,” Buffy teased him. “That’s fine. I’ll talk to Riley tonight. They’re having a party at Lowell House, but I think I can get to him before it gets into full swing.”

 

“Good,” her Watcher said. “I will feel much better when we know what caused Spike’s present condition. It should help us know what to do for him. You’ll stay with him this afternoon?”

 

“Until Mom gets home tonight,” Buffy said. “I don’t want him to be alone while he’s this sick.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike dreamt.

 

 _He stood on a swinging bridge that hung across a chasm. He looked down, and couldn’t see the bottom; it seemed to go on forever. To his left, standing on the edge, was Spike, the vampire—rash, perpetually angry, and yet filled with a violent_ joie de vivre _that spilled over and left a wake of blood behind him. On the other side, to his right, stood William, the man—quiet, mousy, ineffectual William, who would have made someone a doting husband and indulgent father._

_The demon called out to him. “You know you can’t escape your true nature. You were in the darkness for a century. Do you really think you can leave that behind? It’s not possible.”_

_The man called out to him. “You belong to the light now. There is no point in sullying your thoughts with evil things. A gentleman keeps his mind on that which is good and true and pure.”_

_“You don’t believe that Victorian shit,” the demon sneered. “The darkness is the place for you. You know you feel it in your soul.”_

_“You’re human now, a man. You must act like a man,” William called._

_Bringing his hands up to his ears to drown out their voices, Spike howled a wordless cry. What was he? Who was he? He was Spike, and not-Spike. He was William, and not-William. He was both. He was nothing. “I won’t choose,” he said, screaming his defiance. “I am both or nothing.”_

_“Then be nothing,” they both said in unison, and the ropes holding the bridge broke on both sides at the same time. Spike fell—_

_—and landed on his back in a graveyard. He had known Sunnydale like the back of his hand, and he recognized this cemetery as one of those he had haunted on occasion. He had followed the Slayer there._

_As if his thought had conjured her out of thin air, Buffy appeared, looming over him, a stake held firmly in her right hand. She dropped to her knees, straddling him, but there was no softness in her face. She was all business. “Buffy, no—” he protested._

_“You’re beneath me,” she replied, coolly, concisely, and the stake slammed down into his chest. She pulled it out, and it made a sucking sound as it left. Then, as casually as if she were plucking a daisy, she reached down into the wound and pulled out his heart. “Did you ever think you had a chance with me?” she asked, and then crushed his heart in her hand._

_Spike looked on in horror as she seemed to dissolve, and he put his hands up to the wound in his chest. They were covered in blood, but now it was not his, but others’, belonging to the thousands he had killed. He scrambled to his feet, terror overwhelming him. The faces of his victims surrounded him, crowding in out of the darkness, and he tried to plead with them, tried to tell them that it hadn’t been his fault. That he had been a demon in a good man’s clothing._

_There were no excuses that could wash away the blood on his hands, however, nothing he could do or say to make it all right again. He had been a monster, a demon, and he had loved every minute of it._

_Out of the crowd of faces came Drusilla, then Angelus. They walked side by side, slowly. “I missed my brave knight,” Dru crooned. “Daddy promised to get him back for me.”_

_“No,” Spike protested, trying to run. He found his feet fastened to the ground. Angelus came around behind him, holding him in place as Drusilla sunk her fangs into his neck. “You’ll be one of us again, my boy,” Angelus murmured, and Spike felt his life slip away from him with a sense of despair._

_He woke to find himself back in the Initiative labs, the metal table beneath him cold on his bare skin. He was tied down, unable to move, unable to speak. They had stolen his autonomy, his voice, everything that made him what he was. Again, he watched as the doctor sliced a thin red line into his chest. Again, he watched as the green goo was poured over the cut. This time, however, nothing happened. There was no change._

_“This one can’t be fixed,” the faceless doctor said, his voice echoing in the cavernous lab. “We’ll need to open him up to see what the problem is.”_

_The scalpel descended once again, and Spike struggled against what held him, tried to cry out, tried—_

The cold wetness on his face shocked him into wakefulness. He stared at Buffy, who was regarding him with a look of concern. “Are you okay? That must have been some nightmare. I’ve been trying to wake you up for the last few minutes.”

 

Spike shook his head, still speechless for the moment. It had been a dream; he had been tangled in the sheets. Buffy had a glass of water in her hand, not a stake. Buffy put the glass down and quickly helped him untangle himself. “I’ll need to change the pillowcase,” she said, as though he had replied to her previous question. “I didn’t know what else to do. I tried shaking you, and I tried calling your name I don’t know how many times.”

 

Spike was still silent. “Spike, why don’t you go take a nice cool bath?” Buffy suggested softly. “Your fever’s still really high, and we need to get it down.”

 

“Am I beneath you?” he asked hoarsely, still expecting to see a stake appear in her hand. The dream had felt that real.

 

Buffy pursed her lips. “I’m never gonna hear the end of that one, am I?” she asked. “No. You’re not beneath me.” A rather dirty thought ran through Buffy’s head as she pictured Spike beneath her in a very different way than he meant. She flushed slightly. “Come on. We really need to get that fever down. I think it’s playing with your brain.”

 

Spike didn’t reply, but Buffy took his silence as acquiescence. At least he was mobile enough to get himself to the bathroom. Buffy started the water, making sure it was cool. “Okay, you soak for a while, and I’ll see if I can’t get something for us both to eat.”

 

“I was a monster,” he whispered.

 

Buffy paused at the door. She understood how you could get freaked out by your own dreams. She’d had a few Slayer-dreams that had pretty much wigged her for days afterward. “Spike, it was just a dream. I don’t know what you saw, but—”

 

“I was a monster,” Spike repeated.

 

Buffy came to kneel in front of him. “Yes, you were. But not anymore. Spike, you’re sick right now. You don’t feel good, and you just had a really nasty nightmare. It’s natural that you would feel out of sorts.”

 

“How can you even look at me?” he asked, despair written on his features.

 

Buffy smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, it doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes.” When he didn’t return her smile, she gave an exasperated sigh. “Spike, do you trust me?”

 

“Wha—yeah, of course,” he said, still hazy from the dreams and fever.

 

“Good. Then trust me when I say you aren’t rational right now. We can talk about this again after you get better.” Buffy stared into his eyes. “Deal?”

 

A sheepish smile spread over Spike’s face. “I’m being a bit of a prat, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. She ran a hand down the side of his face.

 

“This really sucks.”

 

“Being sick always does.”

 

“Buffy, I don’t know who I am.”

 

Impulsively, she kissed him on the forehead, a tender, maternal gesture. “It’s going to be fine, Spike. I promise.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy stood in front of the door to Riley’s room. The guys she had seen on her way in had been cool, though no one had been outright rude. However, it was probably a good thing she hadn’t run into Forrest. While she had no doubt that she could take him, beating up one of Riley’s bestest buds probably wouldn’t be conducive to getting his help.

 

She knocked timidly, and then entered when she heard him call to enter. “Hey,” she said.

 

“Buffy.” Riley’s eyes were cool and remote. “What are you doing here?”

 

“We need to talk—about the Initiative and about Adam. Do you have some time?”

 

Riley regarded her calmly. “Not here,” he replied. “It’s not safe.”

 

They walked outside through the campus, side by side, though not touching. Buffy had left her mom in charge of Spike. After the cool bath and Nyquil, he seemed to be doing better, but she had warned Joyce about the nightmares. Her mom had assured her that she could handle a few bad dreams. “So what’s up?” Riley asked, breaking the silence.

 

“I need your help. We need to figure out how we’re going to stop Adam.” Buffy turned to face him. “You said you were going to help us.”

 

Riley stared at her, and then nodded slowly. He still felt some resentment towards Buffy, but he was having a hard time blaming her at this point. He was also beginning to see that she had been right, that they inhabited different worlds. Just look at what had happened with Faith: there was a world out there he wasn’t sure he was ready for, or that he even wanted to know about. There was a world beyond the government-sanctioned demon-fighting he did—a world of magic and shades of gray. In this case, however, they had the same goal, to prevent Adam from hurting more innocents. That was something they could both agree was worth fighting for.

 

“I’ll tell you what I know,” Riley agreed, filling her in on what they had found out about Adam’s construction.

 

“So he’s pretty much invincible unless you can get rid of the power core?” Buffy asked. “I’m not loving that scenario.”

 

Riley nodded. “We haven’t figured out how to stop him either,” he agreed. “It seems Professor Walsh did almost too good a job on the design.”

 

Buffy laughed a little bitterly. “Why am I not surprised by that?” She was silent for a minute. “We’ll keep working on it from our end. Maybe we can find something that you’re overlooking.”

 

“I hope you can,” Riley said sincerely. “Anything else I can do for you?”

 

“Yeah, there is,” Buffy replied, looking over at him. “Is there any way you can get information on what was done to Spike?”

 

Riley’s face hardened. “Buffy—”

 

“Look, I know you don’t like him, Riley, but he’s human now.” Buffy forged ahead. “He’s sick. Giles thinks it could get more serious because he doesn’t have the immunities we do, and we don’t know what his health was like when he was turned. If we at least knew how it was done, it might give us some place to start.”

 

Riley looked away. “I’ll do what I can,” he finally promised. “I’m not sure Professor Walsh even knew what they did exactly, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

 

“Thank you,” Buffy said softly, touching him lightly on the arm.

 

Riley gave her a serious look. “Don’t mention it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike woke slowly to find Tara at Buffy’s desk, working on homework. “Tara?”

 

“Hey. How are you feeling?” she asked shyly.

 

“Better. At least I don’t feel like I _want_ to die anymore.” Spike pulled himself into a sitting position and grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table, drinking thirstily. He had slept restlessly, and every time he woke up there was someone there. It wasn’t like they were hovering or anything, but Buffy had been there until Joyce showed up. Then Joyce had made soup for him. And now Tara was there to watch over him. “Is there something’ I should know about?” Spike asked her. “Like something about me dying, because no one wants me to be alone.”

 

Tara smiled. “You’re not dying,” she assured him. “But I think Buffy was worried about you having another one of those nightmares.”

 

Spike frowned. There had been another dream earlier, about his mother. He had dreamt of her, of her singing to him, and of turning her and everything she had said to him. It had been far from a pleasant dream, and yet another reminder of the dichotomy of William and Spike. How could he ever hope to reconcile the two? “They’ve been a bit worse lately,” he admitted.

 

“It’s probably the fever,” Tara said wisely. “Drink this.” She pressed a mug into his hand. “My mom used to make this for me when I got the flu.”

 

Spike took a suspicious sniff and then a hesitant sip. After the first taste, he gulped it down quickly. It really didn’t taste too bad. “That’s alright.”

 

“My mom used to say that there wasn’t any reason for medicine to taste bad,” Tara replied.

 

“Might have liked your mum then,” Spike replied. “She still around?” Tara’s smile faltered, and Spike immediately realized his mistake. “I’m sorry, Glinda.”

 

“I-it’s okay,” Tara replied. “You didn’t know.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Spike, why do you call me that?”

 

“What, Glinda?” He gave her a rather charming smile. “It’s what you are, yeah? The good witch?”

 

Tara’s face fell. Spike’s inadvertent reminder of her mother, paired with his nickname for her broke down the defenses she usually carried around. “I’m not.”

 

He frowned, hating that she was suddenly sad. “What? Not good, or not a witch?”

 

“I’m n-not g-g-good.” The hated stutter was back when it had all but disappeared recently around Willow and Spike anyway.

 

Spike grew more serious. “Luv, you’re one of the best ones I know. Why would you say something like that?”

 

She shook her head, refusing to answer, but Spike wasn’t about to just let it go. It was obvious that whatever the problem was it had her scared stiff. He reached out for her hand and grasped it firmly. “I won’t tell anybody,” he said quietly. “If you need to get it off your chest. I won’t say anything.”

 

“I’m part demon.”

 

Tara’s voice was barely audible, and only Spike’s close proximity allowed him to hear her words. At first, he just stared at her in disbelief; then he started to laugh. He just couldn’t help himself. If there were anyone in the world less likely to be evil or a demon, Spike had never met them. She stared at him, hurt, and tried to tug her hand away, but he wouldn’t let go. “There isn’t anyone less likely to be a demon, Glinda,” he said gently. “And trust me, you’re not one. I’ve met I don’t know how many, and none of ‘em looked like you.”

 

Tara shook her head stubbornly. “I-it’s in my b-blood. All the w-w-women in my family are p-part d-demon.”

 

Spike blinked, beginning to get the picture, barely refraining from snarling. No wonder the girl was so shy. “Luv,” he said gently. “Do you have any siblings?”

 

“A-a b-brother.”

 

“And he’s not part demon?” When she shook her head, Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, there you have it. Demon blood is just like anything else. You might find a few half-breeds here and there, and some of ‘em can pass for human. Some can’t. But you don’t have sibs from the same parents, and have one part demon and one not. Doesn’t work that way. Trust me. Whoever gave you that line was a lying bastard.”

 

Tara’s eyes flew up at his harsh words, but he was looking at her with such compassion she wanted to cry. She had no idea why she told Spike, of all people, what her deepest fears were. Perhaps she thought he might understand, since he had been a demon once himself. “Th-that’s w-what m-my f-f-father always said.”

 

“And I won’t take back what I said,” Spike said fiercely. “Besides, even if it were true, it’s not about the blood running through your veins, it’s about what you do. You do right, that’s all that matters.”

 

“Do you really believe that?” she questioned.

 

“Of course I do,” Spike replied. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

 

“No,” Tara said. “Do _you_ believe it?”

 

Spike realized that she wasn’t just asking about what he believed about her, but what he believed about himself. “Now that’s entirely different,” he protested.

 

“Is it?” she challenged him.

 

He glared at her. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

 

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” Tara declared. “I know what you do now.”

 

Spike stared at her, and then broke out into a reluctant smile. “You twisted my words around.”

 

“It seemed like good advice,” she replied.

 

“I’ll try if you will,” he promised. “But you should tell Red. She loves you, you know?”

 

“I’ll try.” There was a pause, during which Spike felt himself drifting off again. “Spike?”

 

“Yeah, luv?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Spike simply smiled. And whether it was the tea, or the conversation, he slept sweetly after that.

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Everybody have their assignments?”

 

“Bedroom, check.”

 

“Bathroom, check.”

 

“Kitchen, check.”

 

“Good, and I’ve got the living room.” Buffy surveyed her troops, consisting of Xander, Willow, Anya, and Giles. Buffy wasn’t sure what Xander had promised his girlfriend to get her here and do anything like real work, but an extra pair of hands was always nice.

 

Really, decorating for Spike was out of the question, mostly because no one had any idea of what he might like. On the other hand, painting was perfectly doable, and with more people to help, the job would get done a heck of a lot faster. Besides, Buffy was certain that the apartment would look so much better newly painted, and she had chosen very neutral shades for the walls. With everybody pitching in, both with their money and their time, it was no trouble.

 

Then, with the help of her mother’s steam-cleaner vacuum (good for everything that might get in the carpets, including blood), the place would be spotless, ready for whatever Spike decided needed to be done.

 

There was plenty of chatter and good-natured ribbing as they got started, and sure enough, they were done in no time. The apartment was not that big. “Well, I hope Spike appreciates this,” Xander complained cheerfully. “Because my arm hurts.”

 

“Maybe you should work out more often,” Buffy teased, appreciating the mellow, creamy ivory color she’d gotten to put on the walls.

 

“Just because you’re the Slayer—” Xander replied, threatening her with a wet paintbrush.

 

Giles shook his head. “We should clear this out. I’m sure Tara doesn’t want to be stuck at Spike’s bedside all day.”

 

“We’d probably better leave the windows open too,” Willow suggested. “Otherwise, Spike’s going to be overwhelmed with paint fumes.”

 

“Good idea, Will,” Buffy said. “Giles, you mind if I catch a ride back to the house with you?”

 

“No, not at all.” They packed up the paint cans, drop cloths, and brushes.

 

“You’ll tell Tara I’ll see her later tonight?” Willow asked Buffy.

 

“Sure.” Buffy and Giles rode together quietly for a while.

 

“Riley did tell you he would get the information?” Giles asked.

 

Buffy nodded. “There’s more. On patrol last night, I ran into a demon-vampire tag team.”

 

Giles glanced over at her. “Are you certain? Vampires and demons do not, as a rule, work together.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Buffy replied. “And trust me, taking on a vampire and demon by yourself? Not fun.”

 

Giles shook his head. “Demons look on vampires as half-breeds. There is a great deal of hatred between the two.”

 

“Well, tell that to the team I ran into last night,” Buffy huffed. “Giles, you know who’s behind this.”

 

“Adam.” Giles put a hand up to his head and rubbed wearily. “This makes it that much more imperative that we find a way to stop him. If he continues to unite demons and vampires, I fear it will be that much more difficult to end this.”

 

“I know, Giles. You haven’t seen him, though. Adam isn’t like anything or anyone we’ve ever faced before.” She gave a short laugh. “I’m not even sure a rocket launcher or blowing up a building will do it.”

 

“We don’t have a building to blow up this time,” Giles reminded her. “Not without a high risk of getting others caught in the middle.”

 

“I know.” They pulled up in front of the house. “Thanks for helping today.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” he replied. “Let Tara know that I’ll be happy to give her a ride as well.”

 

“Sure.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike insisted on going back to his apartment the next day. Buffy insisted on walking him back, wanting to see the look on his face when he saw the paint job on his apartment. “I feel fine.”

 

Buffy had rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue with him. His fever was gone, and while he was still recovering, he would be fine on his own. “All right. I won’t argue with you.”

 

“About time,” he grumbled, but he was smiling. “Buffy, I—I really appreciate this, you looking after me, I mean.”

 

“So you really are feeling better?” Buffy asked. “You were pretty freaked the other day.”

 

Spike shrugged. “It’s hard. It’s—” He stopped, unsure of whether or not he should go on. “Before, it was just trying to figure out what being human means. Now, I’m just trying to figure out what being _me_ means.”

 

Buffy looked off into the distance. “You’re a good guy, Spike. You’ve changed. That’s all that matters.”

 

“Is it really?” he asked. “After everything I’ve done, can you still say that?”

 

Buffy reached over and grabbed his hand. “Yeah, I can. One thing I’ve learned being the Slayer, is that right now is what matters. You don’t always have a lot of time, so what you do now is all that’s important.”

 

“Carpe diem, huh?” Spike asked.

 

“Pretty much.” They had reached his apartment, and Buffy held him back. “Wait, Spike.” She took the keys from his hand. “Eyes closed.”

 

He raised a scarred eyebrow. “What’s this?”

 

“Just shut ‘em.” He sighed and closed his eyes. Buffy unlocked the door and tugged him inside. “Okay, you can open them now.”

 

Spike opened his eyes warily and then took a deep breath. “Who painted?”

 

“We did. You like?”

 

Looking around the apartment incredulously, he shook his head. “Buffy, this—this is—” Spike stopped. The whole place looked cleaner, brighter, almost like a brand new apartment.

 

“Oh, and Mom filled up your fridge. There isn’t a ton in there, but it’s enough to get you by for a while.” She grinned at him.

 

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly.

 

“Spike,” Buffy pulled him around to face her. “It’s not about having to do something. We wanted to do it. You’ve been a lot of help, both to mom and the gang, not to mention Giles. This is the kind of thing people do for their friends.”

 

Spike had never had friends, not when he was human. And vampires didn’t make friends, they had minions, or perhaps families, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to laugh, and he wanted to cry. “What are we, luv?”

 

“I think we’re moving into the dating stage of the game,” Buffy replied. “You think you’re up for the challenge?” she teased.

 

He gave her a wolfish grin and then kissed her thoroughly, showing her exactly how ready he was to move onto the next step. It seemed he still remembered how to kiss, because when he pulled back, Buffy was looking just a little bit stunned. “Oh, wow,” she murmured. “Better try that again, just to make sure.”

 

Spike had no problem obliging her.


	11. Meet the Inner Demon

**“Don’t speak, words come out your eyes./You’re wet with this nightmare./Like thorns you hold these secrets to your breast,/Your slender fingers closing into fists./Trace your bruise like a guilty streak./Hold the pain./You’re a connoisseur./You think you have no other gift to give,/but we have so much left to live…So come on now,/I can almost see/that place on a distant shore./And courage is a weapon we must use/to find some life you can’t refuse…I guess all I really mean,/is you’re gonna be alright/yeah, you’re gonna be alright./You can close your eyes tonight.” ~Over the Rhine, “Etc, Whatever”**

 

Buffy opened the door to find Riley standing in front of her. “Hey, Buffy.”

 

“Riley.” She smiled in greeting. They had somehow found themselves on much friendlier ground than before. “What’s up?”

 

“I have that information on Spike that you wanted,” he explained, handing her a thick folder. “It’s all there. What they used, where it came from, results of the testing they did after he became human.” The soldier stopped and hesitated. “Look, Buffy, there’s a CD with some footage in there too. You might want to let Spike watch that by himself. It’s—it’s a little rough.”

 

Buffy looked grim. “I’ll let him know.”

 

Riley took a deep breath. “I know we didn’t see eye to eye on the whole Spike thing, but after getting a better look at his records, I’m beginning to think you were right. And, if you wouldn’t mind, could you tell him that I’m sorry?” At Buffy’s look of surprise, Riley added, “The Initiative’s job is to protect humans; that’s what I signed up for. But in Spike’s case we didn’t do a very good job of distinguishing between human and not.”

 

Buffy gave Riley a long look, sensing his sincerity. “I think Spike will appreciate that.”

 

“Anyway, use what you need,” Riley continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let me know if you need my help with anything else, okay? I really want to do whatever I can to help stop Adam.”

 

“Thanks, Riley. Same here, if you need the Slayer, I mean.”

 

He shrugged. “I’ll let you know. See you around.”

 

Riley turned to leave, and Buffy was relieved to see that he seemed cheerful enough. She hated to think that she’d damaged him for life by breaking things off. “Riley! Wait.” He half-turned to look back at her. “We’re having a meeting later this afternoon at Giles’ to talk about Adam and things. It would be nice if you could make it.”

 

She could see him hesitating, but he finally nodded. “I’ll try. Any particular time?”

 

“Maybe four-ish?” Riley nodded and started back down the hall. Buffy sighed. Now she would just have to explain his presence to Spike.

 

~~~~~

 

“Now why on earth would you ask me to do something like that?” Giles asked incredulously.

 

Spike looked at him stubbornly, and Giles had a feeling that no matter what was said, he would not be winning this argument. “I’m curious, is all,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t have enough experience to help me out.”

 

Giles shook his head, still trying to figure out why Spike would want to train. His request seemed to come out of nowhere. “I am still uncertain as to what you feel you would gain by this, Spike.”

 

“I want to see where I end and the demon began,” Spike said quietly. “I was—I was different as a human, before. I want to know if I can still fight.” There was a note of desperation in his tone as he said, “Rupert, I spent over a hundred years learning how to survive, honing my skills, getting a reputation. Wasn’t about the kill, it was about the excitement. There’s a part of me that still wants it.”

 

“And you want to see if you can still handle it,” Giles replied, beginning to understand. He sighed. Buffy hadn’t seemed particularly interested in training recently, and since Spike moved out he didn’t have nearly as much to keep him busy. The opportunity to train and teach someone else was inviting; he very much enjoyed that part of his work.

 

There was more, however. Giles felt that the time might soon be approaching for him to move back to England. Buffy certainly didn’t require extensive services from a Watcher, and Willow was skilled enough with witchcraft that they didn’t need his services as a magician. They might require an extra pair of hands in battle though, and a steady head where research was concerned. Spike was not a Watcher, but he could easily fill the role of replacement, without too much trouble. And Spike wouldn’t leave, that much Giles could guarantee.

 

“Very well. I do feel it wise to wait until after we have things with Adam sorted out before we start. I fear that he will require all our attention.” Giles looked at Spike, regarding him with serious intent. “It will also give you time to finish recovering.”

 

“I’m fine,” Spike protested, a touch of anger in his voice. “Wish you lot would quit hovering. You’re worse than Joyce. Least she’ll give me some space.”

 

“She also gave you the day off,” Giles pointed out. “With strict instructions to take it easy.”

 

Spike stared at him suspiciously. “You don’t know that.”

 

“I do,” Giles replied calmly. “She called me and told me to look out for you.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes dramatically. “You two are worse than a gaggle of old mamas,” he grumbled. “Won’t even give a bloke the chance to breathe.”

 

“We happen to be rather fond of you, William,” Giles said, unperturbed. “We would like to keep you relatively healthy.”

 

Spike might have managed a snarky reply to that statement of fact, in spite of the kindness. He really was more than a little tired of people trying to take care of him. It was beginning to make him claustrophobic. Giles was saved from his caustic reply, however, by Buffy breezing in the door after a brief knock. “Giles, Riley came through on the information we needed.”

 

Buffy stopped when she saw Spike standing there. “Hey, Spike. I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

 

“Your mom decided I was too fragile and needed a day off,” he explained, rather grumpily.

 

She smiled at him. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here,” Buffy said. “It’s all about you anyway.” She set the file down on Giles’ coffee table and came around to sit next to Spike on the couch. “We’ll probably need Willow for the data files,” she said, “but Riley said there was some footage on the CD that no one else should see.”

 

Buffy could feel Spike stiffen beside her, and she reached out to take his hand comfortingly. “That’s what’s supposed to tell us what they did to me, huh?”

 

Giles was flipping through documents, including detailed notes about the substance—some kind of demon blood—and the demon it was taken out of.  “Spike, would you hand me Briggs’ Demon Compendium?”

 

Buffy was slightly surprised when Spike found it immediately, without any trouble at all. It seemed he knew his way around Giles’ books as well as the Watcher did. Giles flipped it open, going quickly to the correct entry. “Ah. I thought so. The Mohra demon, in whose veins runs the blood of eternity. The blood has regenerative properties. The Initiative tracked and captured one, and during their tests found out that the blood seemed to have strange abilities.” The Watcher flipped through a couple more pages, finding another that pertained to what he was looking for. “Spike was captured at about the same time they were looking for a test subject, and since vampires are technically dead, they decided to test the blood on him.”

 

Giles looked up at Spike. “It seems that the Initiative’s testing did include common vaccinations, so that’s one thing we don’t have to be concerned about.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Spike muttered, obviously uncomfortable.

 

“There are other things in here, of course. Test results, observations, some CDs. I would suggest we let Willow look at it, at least to see what kind of information is there.” Giles threw a concerned look at Spike. “Are you sure you’re up to this, William?”

 

“Quite sure,” Spike replied, and for a second Buffy could hear traces of a much more Giles-like accent. “Let’s see it then.”

 

They spent the next several hours going over the rest of the files. Spike continued to get quieter and grimmer as he acquired additional information. He had pretty much missed out on the first couple weeks because he’d been, well, insane. Now, here was more information than he’d ever wanted. At some point, Buffy came over to sit next to him again, snuggling up close, and her physical proximity was a comfort.

 

Willow came over as soon as she finished her last class, bringing her laptop with her. “Okay. So I’m data girl. Here we go.” There were three disks, and Willow went through them quickly. Two were simply the electronic files for the hard copies of the documents they already had. The third obviously had footage on it, and Willow didn’t open any of the files on that one. “Do you want to watch it alone?” she asked Spike. “I could show you how.”

 

He shook his head. “Don’t think I’m ready for that,” he replied. “Maybe—maybe some other time, yeah?”

 

“Whenever,” Willow said easily, almost too brightly. She was feeling particularly bad for Spike. Realizing exactly how much had been done to him was a little scary. “Just let me know.”

 

“Sure.” Spike wanted to do something, pummel something. He felt Buffy tug on his hand, and he glanced over at her.

 

“We have some time before the meeting later,” she said quietly. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

 

~~~~~

 

They walked to a park, Buffy keeping her fingers interlocked with his. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“Wish everybody would stop asking me that,” Spike replied. “It’s like you lot think I’m going to fly apart any minute.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Ha bloody ha, Slayer,” Spike said.

 

Buffy smiled up at him. “So, you’re definitely feeling better then?”

 

“All your mother’s arguments aside, yeah. I’m better.” Spike managed to smile back at her. There was something about the sun on his face and Buffy’s hand in his that made him feel infinitely better.

 

“My mother?” Buffy teased. “She’s _your_ boss.” He raised an eyebrow in response, and she went on. “Riley told me to say he was sorry. I don’t know if that’s really what you want to hear, but that’s what he said.”

 

“That’s big of him,” Spike said evenly.

 

Buffy frowned. “Spike, for Riley to even admit that the Initiative was wrong is huge. You could cut him some slack.”

 

“What do you want me to say?” he demanded. “I just went through a file several inches thick with ‘Hostile 17’ stamped all over it. So he’s sorry. Finn was still a part of the blokes that did that to me.” Spike took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. “I’m human because of what they did, and I’m not saying I regret it. Most days I don’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for me.”

 

“I know,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike pulled away. “How can you?”

 

“Because I’m the Slayer,” she replied. “I know this kind of stuff.” When he didn’t smile or respond, she sighed. “I know what it’s like to have a hard time figuring out who you are, Spike. You’re right. It’s not easy. But you seem to be doing okay with things.”

 

“Yeah.” Spike studied the ground intently. “I’m doing okay.”

 

Buffy reached out for him again. She had never been very good with words, not with anyone, so she tried the physical thing, hoping she might anchor him in a way. He let himself be moved, and she put her arms around his waist, feeling him return the embrace eventually. “I didn’t say you had to forgive Riley. I’m just passing along the message.” Buffy’s voice was muffled by the blue t-shirt he wore.

 

“I know.” Spike placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Just as long as you don’t expect me to be friends with the git, I think we’ll be okay.”

 

“That’s good,” Buffy said, pulling back slightly. “Then you don’t mind that he’s coming to the meeting, right?”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had definitely minded, but he had understood Buffy’s point. They needed information from the Initiative to defeat Adam. The soldier could only be help when it came to taking the hybrid human-demon cyborg down. That didn’t mean he was happy with it.

 

About the only saving grace was that Buffy was sitting next to him on Giles’ couch, as they went through the information they had. Spike made certain to keep one arm behind Buffy the entire time, the gesture a subtle declaration of possession.

 

“It’s been quiet,” Buffy said, knowing exactly why Spike felt he needed to put his arm around her, but deciding not to argue about it. “My kill count is way down.”

 

“Buffy doesn’t make her quota,” Xander quipped. “Bad Slayer.”

 

Spike glanced over to see Willow whispering in Tara’s ear, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Tara had spilled her secret yet. As he watched them laugh, he couldn’t help but feel happy for the both of them. They had a good chance of making it, he thought.

 

He tuned back into the conversation just as Giles said, “So the activity has shifted but not stopped. That’s very interesting.”

 

“To a very bored person maybe,” Anya commented, completely serious. Spike found it difficult to stifle his laughter. He always found Anya’s commentary funny, if sometimes embarrassing. She told it like it was, a trait he admired.

 

Giles got rather huffy, and Spike glanced over at Buffy who was also looking amused. Riley was valiantly trying to hide a smile, and then the door opened. The three of them looked up as the door opened, and Spike was surprised to see a short red-headed boy standing in the doorway, looking a trifle awkward. He wasn’t sure who he was seeing, but as silence fell over the room, it looked to be an important arrival.

 

“Hi, guys.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So that was Willow’s ex?” Spike asked, as they walked back to his place.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy replied.

 

Spike glanced over at Buffy, who looked worried. “Bad breakup?”

 

“You could say that,” Buffy replied. “It was just before you showed up, actually. Some stuff came up, and Oz pretty much bailed overnight. Willow was devastated.”

 

“I can imagine,” Spike murmured. “Been there, done that.”

 

“Me too,” Buffy said. They shared a look and both smiled, enjoying the shared bond. “Anyway, it’s really too bad. Willow was completely dealing with Oz being a werewolf.”

 

“The boy’s a werewolf?” Spike stared at Buffy. “Really? Is that safe?”

 

“Uh, sure.” Buffy gave him a weird look. “I mean, Oz locked himself up three days out of the month, but Willow was okay with it.”

 

Spike shook his head. “No, is it safe now? With the Initiative goons running around all the time, looking for Adam.” He pointed at the sky. “It’s a full moon tonight, luv. Do we know your friend’s in a safe spot?”

 

Buffy frowned. “I don’t know. Oz was meeting Willow tonight.” She gave it some consideration, and then said hopefully, “Oz was going to try to find a way to control the wolf. Maybe he figured it out.”

 

Spike hesitated, and then said slowly. “I hope he did, but inner demons aren’t usually so easily gotten rid of.” He glanced over at Buffy. “You mind if we stop by Tara’s place? Want to check on her.”

 

Buffy wasn’t sure what to think of Spike’s question. She knew that he and Tara were friends, but she was curious as to why he thought he needed to look in on her. Unless—the thought was too strange to even contemplate. Except—Tara had been upset earlier that afternoon, as had Willow. If it were just a friendship—

 

Buffy shook the notion off. Of course it wasn’t anything like that. “Sure. And then, maybe, would you want to see a movie?”

 

Spike thought of needing to get up early the next morning to open the gallery. Then he thought of sitting in the back of a darkened theater with Buffy. It was no contest. “Yeah, pet. I’d like that.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy woke slowly, her head pillowed on Spike’s shoulder. It was too early, but the alarm was going off, and she knew he had to be to work soon. She rolled over to look into his eyes. “Hey there.”  


“Hey, luv,” he mumbled sleepily. “It’s too bloody early.”

 

“I second that,” she said, giving him a kiss. They had gone to the movie after stopping by Tara’s. The girl had thanked Spike for stopping by, but had said that she was fine. They’d gone to the theater, finding whatever was playing at that late hour. Buffy hadn’t really seen any of it though. Spike had been too busy kissing her and making snide remarks about the actors for her to pay much attention. She couldn’t remember enjoying herself that much at the movies for, well, ever.

 

Knowing that Willow might want some time with Oz, and not wanting to intrude, they’d both gone back to Spike’s apartment and crashed together on his bed. Buffy wasn’t sure she would have minded doing something other than sleep, but Spike didn’t seem ready to go down that road yet. Just waking up next to him, though, his curly hair mussed and sticking up all over the place, his blue eyes darkened by dreams and desire—well, it was certainly something to wake up to.

 

“You want the shower first?” he asked sleepily.

 

Buffy shook her head. “No clean clothes. I’ll catch one back at the dorm.”

 

“You just want to sleep a bit more,” he accused. Buffy gave him a smug little smile, then rolled over with her back to him. She heard him groan and then the bed creaked as he rose. She opened one eye to watch as he padded over to the closet and pulled out some clothing, admiring his well-muscled back and lean form. Definitely something nice to wake up to.

 

“How late are you working?” she called out.

 

His muffled voice came through the crack in the door, drifting across the short expanse of hall into the bedroom. “Until five. Your mom’s leaving on a buying trip in a day or so. She said she wanted to give me a bit of time off before I was stuck running the place on my own for the next few days. Why?”

 

“Just curious.” Buffy rolled over in bed lazily. “Thought maybe you might want to do something tonight.”

 

She could hear the water start, and whatever he might have said was drowned out by the noise. Buffy got out of bed and pulled on her pants, smiling as she did so. Spike had been so cute, looking away as she got undressed until she was under the covers. Buffy had to wonder how much of that was William.

 

Leaning back against the wall, thinking about Spike, she had to wonder how much of him was Spike, and how much was the man he’d been before he was turned. The Slayer had the sense that no one was really sure, least of all Spike himself.

 

She was still pondering when Spike stuck his head into the bedroom. “Sorry, pet. Didn’t hear you. What was that you said?”

 

“I was wondering if you wanted to do something tonight,” Buffy replied.

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know. What would you want to do?”

 

Spike hesitated, and then said, almost plaintively, “You think we could just—I don’t know—sit? Maybe stay in, watch the telly? Wouldn’t be here, of course, but—I just want you to myself for a while.”

 

A slow smile spread across Buffy’s face. “I think we could manage that.”

 

He grinned at her. “Brilliant. We could rent a bad movie and throw popcorn at the screen. Always wanted to do that.”

 

Buffy laughed, loving this playful side of Spike. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

~~~~~

 

Their plans never did go quite right. Spike had decided to go for a run after work, since he wasn’t supposed to meet Buffy until 7. He had discovered that he needed to get his adrenalin rush from somewhere. Stealing was out of the question, and hunting demons was rather foolish. Running, on the other hand, gave him a nice high and was easy on his wallet. It had been Giles who turned him onto the sport, and they’d been together a couple times. But most days, he liked going by himself, letting his mind empty.

 

He had just finished, and was out front toweling himself off with his shirt when Buffy came running up. “Spike!”

 

“Hey, luv,” he replied, smiling at her. “You’re early.”

 

“We have a problem,” Buffy said grimly. “The Initiative has Oz.”

 

Spike stiffened, the hand holding his t-shirt dropping limply to his side. “Did you call Finn?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I tried. I’ve been trying, but I can’t get a hold of him. We have to get Oz out of there. If I had the security clearance still, we could walk in there, but that’s long gone. I—we thought, maybe if you still remembered how you got out…”

 

His voice was toneless when he finally spoke, the color in his cheeks from his run draining out. “I’ll need to change, get dressed. Shower.”

 

“We don’t have time!” Buffy protested.

 

Spike looked at her, and something flashed in his eyes. “We have time. Place starts shutting down after 10. We don’t go in before then.”

 

Buffy was silenced by the flatness of his tone and the emptiness in his eyes. She realized belatedly that she was asking him to do what constituted his worst nightmare. She had been thinking only of ways to get Oz out, and hadn’t completely processed what it would mean for Spike to be asked to go back in. “Spike—”

 

“I’ll go,” he said, knowing what she was going to say before she said it. “I’ll go, Buffy.” He turned and looked at her before they entered the building, and the image he made would stay with her for a long time afterwards—pale skin sweat-streaked, muscles well-defined on his lean form, his curls hanging loose and wet. And the look in his eyes was that of a man going into Hell, and doing so willingly.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike finished showering and then went into his bedroom to dress, leaving Buffy in the living room. He wasn’t sure that there was truly anything in the world that would get him to go back into the heart of the Initiative, except that he wouldn’t leave the carcass of a rabid cur in their hands. There was certainly no way he could leave a stranger there, not when he knew what would happen, what they would do.

 

He pulled the worn duffel bag out from under his bed, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. Spike hadn’t worn the clothing he’d had left over from his life as a vampire for months now. There seemed to be no reason. But now—now he pulled on slightly faded black jeans and a black t-shirt. Then, reaching into the bottom, he found it.

 

Spike had never much been one for weapons, whatever he had said to Buffy that night at the school. He had always preferred fists and fangs when he could get away with it, and he’d built himself a formidable reputation using them. On occasion, however, there had been need, and he had always liked knives.

 

He pulled it out of its sheath, the big ornamental knife gleaming in the dim light from the overhead bulb. It had been in a novelty store in New Orleans, over two decades before. He had seen it, and wanted it immediately; despite its beauty, it was sharp as a razor and fully functional. The shopkeeper he’d bled dry, and then he’d taken it and baptized it in blood that very night. So many to atone for…

 

Spike shook off the memories, and clipped the sheath to his belt in the small of his back, shrugging on his jacket over it. Except for the missing duster, he was Spike again. And it felt so good it was frightening.

 

Buffy looked up as he exited the bedroom, and there was something different in his eyes. It reminded her of Giles during the affair with Eyghon, as though a curtain had been drawn back and someone else entirely had been revealed. Oddly enough, she found herself comforted, because for the first time she believed that they might actually be able to pull this off.

 

“Ready?”

 

He gave her a hard smile. “Aren’t I always?”

 

They took the Desoto to Giles’ apartment. “How did they catch him?” Spike finally asked, having yet to hear the story.

 

“Oz ran into Tara at the dorm. Apparently he—smelled Willow on her.” Buffy belatedly realized that Spike might not have all the details, and that Willow might not want all those details to get out. “You know, he just kind of—I guess he—”

 

“It’s alright, luv,” Spike said, his face softening for the first time. “I know about the two of them.”

 

Buffy stared at him. “Wait. How come I didn’t know?” At Spike’s impatient look, she sighed. “Anyway, Oz changed right there. He went after Tara, but Riley and some of his guys showed up. Tara tried to tell them, but they weren’t really paying attention.”

 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Spike snorted. “‘Wait, you should know—’, ‘No need to thank us ma’am, catching dangerous animals and making their lives miserable is all part of our duty.’ ‘But please, you have to realize—’, ‘That saving lives is what we do best. Yes, we’ve heard that before.’”

 

All of this was said in alternating voices, what Buffy could only imagine was supposed to be a damsel in distress and a manly soldier, and she couldn’t keep from giggling. The funniest part was that she had a feeling that he’d probably nailed the scenario right on the head. As much as she liked Riley, she could definitely picture him doing something like that. She sighed. “Something like that. Anyway, I tried to call Riley, but he wasn’t around.”

 

Buffy looked over at him earnestly. “Spike, you don’t have to do this. We can find another way if we need to.”

 

“No.” Spike was firm. “Won’t leave anybody I have a passing acquaintance with in that place longer than I have to. Wouldn’t leave my worst enemy in there, to be honest. There’s a different way in, the way they took me. Won’t be easy, but maybe the witches can whip something up.”

 

The Scoobies, including Tara, were at Giles’ when they arrived. Tara’s face was looking pinched, and she stared at Spike in relief when he came through the door. He couldn’t blame her; she probably thought he could actually pull off the rescue. Spike could tell she was feeling guilty, as though it were her fault, which it most certainly wasn’t. He walked over to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Don’t you worry, ducks. Wasn’t your fault. Besides, we’ll get him out, right as rain.”

 

Buffy watched as he reassured the girl and wondered at his softness, even as he geared up for battle. It was like watching two people share the same skin. Spike straightened and looked over the others. “We’ll need something to keep the goons at bay,” he said without preamble. “I can get us in, but there’s bleeding security cameras all over the place. Red?”

 

Willow shook her head, her face pale and worried. “I don’t know of anything that’s going to work for us there, and there isn’t anything I can do about the security. I mean, maybe if I had more time, but it’s been too long already. They could be doing anything to him!”

 

Her voice rose towards the end, and Buffy knew her friend wasn’t far away from giving into full-blown panic. Spike’s voice cut through her hysteria. “Pull it together,” he commanded. “Boy’s alive, I can tell you that much for sure. He won’t be comfortable, but he’s alive. Tara—” He turned to look at the blonde witch. “What can you do for cloaking spells?”

 

Everyone but Tara looked surprised when he asked that question. Willow might have protested, but Tara replied with only a slight stutter. “I-I think I have s-something th-that c-could work.”

 

Spike smiled. “Take you long to work it up?” She shook her head. “Get with Red. Imagine she’ll insist on going in with us, so make sure she can do what it takes to get us going. Any other volunteers for service?”

 

Xander raised his hand. “You’re not going in without me,” he replied steadily. “Oz is my friend.”

 

“Thought so,” Spike replied. “You alright with the numbers, Slayer?”

 

Buffy stared at him. This was generalissimo-Spike she was seeing. This was Spike, the Master Vampire, who ordered minions and made plans and fought battles. This was also a major turn-on. “Sounds like a plan. You know where we’re going?”

 

He grew still, and Buffy could sense him drawing himself in, much as she did before a major fight. “I know.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had made no attempt to remember where the Initiative had brought him out into daylight for the first time in several months. He had been much more interested in escaping at the time to _want_ to remember how to go back. He’d gone looking for the entrance just a couple weeks ago though, soon after Walsh had been killed. So much of his past was beginning to feel like a dream, as though it had never happened, that he had wanted to be able to point to a spot. To be able to say, this is where I started my life all over again.

 

It hadn’t been nearly as hard to find as he thought it might be. That reminded him that his past wasn’t nearly as far away as he might wish it were.

 

“Here,” he grunted, crouching down next to the manhole cover and trying to lift it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Buffy looking rather amused.

 

“You want to let the superhero give it a shot?” Spike rolled his eyes and stepped back, watching enviously as Buffy lifted the cover effortlessly. The Slayer turned and looked at her friends. “Willow? Are you ready?”

 

The redhead nodded and then chanted the words needed to activate the spell pouches hanging around their necks. Tara had explained that the spell made people not want to look at you. Even if they were spotted on the security cameras, there was a good possibility that the guards watching would feel an aversion to doing anything about it. Cloaking spells, she had added, were something of a hobby for her.

 

The pouches glowed yellow briefly as the spell took effect, and then Willow gave them all a hopeful smile. “That should do it.”

 

“Let’s go.” Buffy looked over at Spike, who was staring down into the hole with a strange expression on his face, one she couldn’t name. “Spike? You ready?”

 

He nodded shortly. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Spike lowered himself into through the opening, his feet finding the latter in the dim, emergency lighting from above. Waiting at the bottom for the others to descend, emotions washed over him in waves, memories of the day he’d escaped, memories from before.

 

They weren’t going to get him again, that much Spike was going to make certain of. It was the reason he had the knife strapped to his back. He didn’t see himself having any problem using it.

 

When they were all on the ground, he led the way through the hallways, letting himself move by instinct more than anything else. Spike had no idea where they would keep the wolf, but the place was huge. And it wasn’t as though there were going to be neon signs saying, “This way to rescue your friends.”

 

Buffy put her hand on Spike’s arm, catching his attention after fifteen minutes of fruitless wandering. “Spike, maybe we should go to plan B. Grab somebody who’s going to know where Oz is. Do you think you could find the head honcho?”

 

Spike frowned, thinking, and then nodded. “This way.”

 

They hadn’t gone very far when Spike stiffened, sensing people ahead. Buffy seemed to get the same idea at the same time, because she pushed herself out in front of the group. The soldiers came around the corner of the hallway, seemingly surprised to see the small group of trespassers. An older man was at the forefront, and he looked to be in charge. Unfortunately, the spell might work on cameras and guards, but it wasn’t much good in such close quarters.

 

There was a moment of mutual surprise, when no one knew quite what to do, but it was over in an instant. The soldiers pointed their weapons at the Slayer and her friends just as Buffy pointed her crossbow at the Colonel, and Xander brought his own weapon up.

 

It was a Mexican standoff. Neither Buffy nor Xander were ready to kill a human, but the soldiers didn’t know that. And the Initiative boys would willingly follow any orders given, regardless of the consequences. People on both sides were going to die if anyone decided to take action.

 

“You know who I am?” Buffy challenged the colonel.

 

“I know who you are,” he replied, distaste in his voice. “This isn’t going to do you any good, you know. Captain Finn is going to stay in the brig. Helping an HST to escape is a court martial offense.”

 

Xander blinked, and he and Willow exchanged looks from where they stood behind Buffy. “Riley tried to help Oz?” Buffy asked.

 

The colonel’s eyes narrowed in recognition of their objective. “You came for the wolf.”

 

“I guess we’re two for one,” Xander said.

 

The colonel stared at them in disdain. “Hardly. You’re at a standstill, Ms. Summers. You’ll be lucky to get out of here alive. Breaking and entering into a military base is a federal offense. I don’t think anyone will be surprised when we tell them you were shot during the attempt.”

 

“That’s assuming I don’t kill you first,” Buffy replied flippantly, trying to look as though she really meant it.

 

The older man seemed to recognize her hesitance. “You wouldn’t. We have very thorough records. Slayers don’t kill humans.”

 

“What about ex-vampires? What do your records say about them?” Spike’s voice came out of nowhere, just after he put the colonel into a headlock, knife at his throat. “You think I wouldn’t do it?”

 

Spike had been listening to the threats with the understanding that they were not going to make it out of there alive without drastic action. For months, he had been trying to reconcile what he had been with what he was now. He was William. He was Spike. He was neither.

 

He was both. William had been a wallflower, unnoticed except at the worst of times. He had long ago learned that it was often best to be overlooked, safer to be passed over. Spike had been a predator, and had known how to move swiftly and silently, taking advantage of the element of surprise, though he often bypassed surprise out of impatience. So he thought William-thoughts, enhancing the cloaking spell inadvertently, even as the soldiers focused on Buffy. He tensed, inching his way to the side, wanting a clear shot at the colonel, the only non-expendable present.

 

Somewhere in there, he seemed to have reached a point of precious balance, something that both Spike and William could agree on: you did anything you had to do to protect the ones you cared about.

 

It took only a second, when all eyes were on the Slayer, and Spike had a wiry arm wrapped around the head honcho’s neck, knife at his throat, asking the crucial question. Would he kill?

 

Spike angled their bodies so that the other man was a shield. “You want him to stay alive, you bring the wolf and Finn to us,” he commanded. When they didn’t move, he applied a little more pressure with the knife and watched as a single drop of blood welled up and slid down the blade.

 

“Do it!” the colonel said, suddenly frantic.

 

Several of the soldiers disappeared back down the hall. Spike stood with the knife still poised. “Bit different, innit?” Spike murmured pleasantly in the man’s ear, almost purring. “To have a killer holding the knife to your throat? I’ve killed more people than you can count, and you thought to turn me back into a human, thinking that would do some good. Did you ever stop to think what kind of damage I might do should I wish it?”

 

“Spike,” Buffy’s voice came from behind him, as though from a long way away. He wasn’t paying attention to the Slayer anymore, or anything else for that matter. There was only the knife and the man’s throat and the moment. Because if any of the soldiers thought for a moment that he wouldn’t kill, it would all be over.

 

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Spike raised his eyes to see the soldiers heading back towards them, a limping, pinch-faced Oz in their midst. “Harris, take care of him.”

 

Xander didn’t question his orders, simply moved to help support his friend, pulling him back behind the rest of the group. Riley wasn’t far behind them, coming with his own escort just a few minutes later. “Buffy,” he said, pausing, his eyes going from his ex-girlfriend to Spike, who was holding his commanding officer hostage.

 

“Riley, we need to go,” Buffy said quietly, looking over at Spike, who seemed to be holding it together. She was worried however; he had a manic look that she hadn’t seen for a long time now.

 

“If I leave now, I can’t ever come back,” Riley replied, and then his eyes caught Spike’s. He looked at Oz. “I just wanted to hear that out loud.”

 

“Finn, Slayer, you lead. I’ll bring up the rear.” Spike walked backwards, keeping the colonel’s body in between him and the rest of the soldiers. One of them took a step forward, and he applied a little more pressure to the knife, watching their faces as they saw a thin red line appear and another drop run down the knife blade.

 

“I’ve done this before,” he reminded them. “And you’re the blokes that held me hostage for weeks. I know exactly how much pressure to give it before I spray the walls with his blood. And I’ll take a few of you lot with me. You want to see him die, take another step forward.”

 

“Stay,” the colonel croaked, and the soldiers fell back, obviously confused. Spike kept walking backwards until they were out of sight. Then he pushed the officer in front of him, prodding him with the point of the knife.

 

“Move.” They soon caught up with the others, and Spike forced the colonel into a half-trot as they hurried to get out of there. Riley reached the manhole first, and quickly lifted himself out, keeping watch until the others were safely out. Buffy was the last, and she was watching Spike decide whether or not to kill the man.

 

It was, perhaps, a more difficult decision than it should have been. Not that he actively wanted to kill the colonel, just that he didn’t think he would feel all that badly if he did. Spike hesitated, his fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. “I could slit your throat for all you’ve done to me and mine,” he said, anger threatening to overwhelm him.

 

“You don’t want to do that,” the colonel said, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You won’t be able to return from killing a man in cold blood.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?” Spike asked incredulously. “You did this to me. I could kill you for that.” He looked over at Buffy, and unexpectedly saw understanding in her eyes. She didn’t want him to kill the man, of course, but she understood everything. His anger, his indecision, his hurt, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t felt this way about Faith. With one violent gesture, he hit the colonel across the temple with the knife handle, knocking him out.

 

“Let’s go,” Buffy said, motioning him to precede her.

 

They stood in the clear night air, not quite knowing what to do with what had just happened. “You’ll need to take Finn somewhere safe,” Spike said dully. “I’ve—I need some time. I’ll see you later, Slayer.”

 

“Hey—” Spike turned to see Oz looking at him with an intensity only someone who knew him well might have been able to see. “Thanks, man.”

 

Spike looked at Oz, at Riley, at the others—they seemed suddenly strange to him, as though he’d never seen them before. “Sure.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike walked for a long time, no destination in mind. He went unmolested, though there was a part of him that wouldn’t have minded being attacked. It was a hard thing to walk into the pit of Hell and find that a demon still dwelt within.

 

He wasn’t all that surprised to find himself on Giles’ doorstep in the wee hours of the morning; the Watcher was one of the few he knew that might understand personal darkness. Giles himself seemed unsurprised to see him. “Spike.” He pulled the door open, wider, and let Spike inside. “I wondered when you might show up.”

 

“How did you know I would?” Spike asked with a touch of belligerence.

 

Giles made a motion with his shoulders that might have been a shrug. “Buffy came by and told me what happened. She wanted me to keep a lookout for you.” He poured them both a stiff drink, and handed Spike a glass.

 

“I would have killed him tonight,” Spike said, anger and bewilderment in his voice in equal parts. “I didn’t care.”

 

“Then why didn’t you?”

 

“Buffy.” Spike looked over at him. “She looked at me like she understood, but she didn’t. Not really. She wouldn’t’ve understood if I’d gutted the bastard.”

 

Giles nodded. “I daresay she would not.”

 

“It’s not the same,” Spike said slowly. “The bloodlust isn’t there anymore. Don’t want to go out and literally paint the town red. But it’s still in there, Rupert. I know—” He swallowed hard. “I know what it would have felt like to slit his throat—just where to put the knife. What it would have looked like, watching the blood spray on the walls. God help me, I can even remember what _I_ would have felt doing it, an’ I can’t help but wish I had a little bit of that back.”

 

“We do not completely exorcise our demons,” Giles said after a long silence in which he filled Spike’s glass a second time. “We bury them, or perhaps harness them for the greater good, but they are a part of who we are and ever will be.” He watched Spike slam the glass back. “You did well tonight.”

 

“Don’t want to think about it right now,” Spike mumbled, the alcohol hitting him hard on an empty stomach, with his human metabolism. William could never hold his liquor.

 

Giles poured him another glass, knowing exactly what he was doing. Well, Spike was hardly a minor, so it wasn’t like he was contributing to anyone’s delinquency. Another glass and Spike would be able to forget for a time that he had been a monster once. Another few days and he would forget what it felt like to let the demon loose. He would lose himself in his own life, in the day-to-day mundanities of going to work and paying the bills and making out with his girlfriend. Until the next time he had to bring the demon out, and it would be a little easier then.

 

But until then, he would watch as Spike got drunk and pour him into bed in an hour or two. He would call him into work sick and rib him about his hangover. Giles knew all too well what it was to want to forget for a time. All too well.


	12. Moments of Truth

**“…And in that moment I found myself knowing/That in the end it’s just about you and me/ Nothing smaller or larger/Though dragons are good for your soul/Nothing can be better than baring yourself for another…Open for scrutiny, ridicule and indulgence/Therein lies the balls, and the mind, and the heart…As fear is truly the Mindkiller…When nothing is left…Everything is gained…You see I wish I was a poet/But I know as we go round and round/Though endings are never ever happy/It’s the happy moments along the way/That in the end/Make it…ok.” ~Five for Fighting, “Nobody”**

 

Spike opened the door to find Buffy standing in front of him. “Buffy.”

 

“Hey,” she greeted him, a little nervous. It had been a couple days since they’d braved the dangers of the Initiative, and she’d been trying to give him his space. Giles had called her the next day to let her know Spike was at his place and safe, but he had also warned her that she needed to give Spike some time to recover. Of course, now that she’d given him the requisite time, she had to dash off to L.A. to save Angel’s ass.

 

He stood aside to let her enter, a silent invitation. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“Yeah,” she replied. “You’re looking less hungover.”

 

Spike gave her something of a sheepish smile. “I blame Rupert. He’s the one that kept pouring.”

 

“And you weren’t drinking?” she teased. Then, more seriously, she asked, “Are you okay?”

 

He shrugged. “I’m alright. Didn’t think I was capable of something like that anymore. Bit of a shock to find out I could still slit someone’s throat quite happily.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I would have minded him being dead,” Buffy said lightly. “He was a major jerk.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Not my business to decide those kinds of things. Willow’s friend get off alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Buffy stood awkwardly, not wanting to take the only chair. The apartment was looking a little more lived-in, but Spike had decided to work on the bedroom first, so there still wasn’t much in the way of seating. “He pretty much left that night.”

 

“And Willow?” Spike asked quietly, also standing. He was feeling uncomfortable for entirely different reasons. “She okay?”

 

“She and Tara are still together,” Buffy said.

 

There was a long moment of silence before Spike said quietly, “Buffy, I don’t know if I can do this, between us. You saw—I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t—” Whatever he was going to say was cut off by Buffy’s lips on his as she kissed him. Quite thoroughly. When she broke it off, they were both breathing a little harder.

 

“What—?”

 

“That was to stop you from saying something incredibly stupid,” Buffy said firmly. “Do you really think I didn’t know how you might react going back in there? After what they did to you? What you did, because I asked you to, was probably one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anybody do. You kept it together, and you got us all out in one piece.” Spike opened his mouth to speak, and Buffy cut him off. “And you better not give me the speech on how I’d be better off without you, because I’d have to kick your ass.”

 

“Right then,” Spike breathed, still a little shaken from the kiss. “You’re okay then?”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes at his obtuseness. “Are you forgetting who my first boyfriend was?”

 

Spike let out a snort. “Never mind then.” He paused, tilting his head to the side to look at her. “What’s wrong, luv? You were looking a bit nervous when you got here, and since you’re not breaking up with me, that’s not it.”

 

Buffy winced as she realized that part of Spike’s nervousness was her own fault. “No, not breaking up with you. It’s just—well, it’s funny really, since we just mentioned Angel.” Spike’s face resembled a thundercloud at this point, and Buffy pushed on. “We got a call that Faith is in L.A., trying to kill him. I need to go.”

 

Spike regarded her steadily for a long minute, finally saying quietly. “I wish you wouldn’t.”  


“I need to,” she replied. “What if—what if it were Drusilla? Wouldn’t you want to go?”

 

He gave her question some serious thought, but finally shook his head, not quite answering. Drusilla was a part of his past that he’d let go of. There was nothing he could do for her now, nor would she want him anymore. Not as a human. “Don’t think it’s the same, pet. You know that.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t need your permission to go, Spike.” There was a touch of anger in her voice. “I just thought you’d like to know.”

 

“You don’t need my permission,” he agreed softly. “But, Buffy, be careful.” Blue eyes met hers, and she realized that he half-expected her to get to L.A. and leap into Angel’s arms again.

 

She shook her head, placing a palm against his cheek. “Curse, remember? I can’t be with him, even if I wanted to, Spike. Angel’s my past.” She swallowed hard, knowing her next words would put their relationship on a new level. “You’re my future.”

 

A small glow lit his eyes. “And you’re mine, luv.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Stay safe, Slayer. Faith isn’t above playing games with your ex.”

 

“I know what she’s capable of,” Buffy reminded him. “I do have a favor though.”

 

“What’s that?” he asked.

 

“Look in on Riley?” she asked. “I’m not asking you to be friends or anything, but just keep an eye on him. Xander’s going to make the rounds too, but if he needs a hand…”

 

Spike sighed. He was so whipped. “Only for you.” They shared a sweet kiss. “Come back to me.”

 

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Well, that was a lie, but he’d known that even as she said it. Spike missed her about five seconds after she walked out the door, and if it weren’t for the responsibilities that working and paying bills presented, he’d have demanded to go with her. Not that he didn’t trust Buffy, mind you, but he’d been around her and Angel for long enough to know what that kind of love meant. First loves always stayed with you, whether you wanted them to or not.

 

It was the insanity of thinking about Buffy and Angel together that was now driving him, Spike was sure. Why else would he willingly go with Xander to check on the soldier-boy? Not to mention the fact that he was another one of Buffy’s exes. It seemed that they’d never be free of Buffy’s ex-boyfriends. Spike sighed. Not only was he going with Harris to deliver clean clothing to Riley, but he’d also prevented the boy from bringing Riley the glow-in-the-dark pants. He was getting way too soft, but he figured if a bloke was stuck in a blown-up high school, he should at least have the dignity of decent clothing.

 

He was too nice.

 

“You doing okay?” Xander asked, hearing Spike’s deep sigh. Xander was still trying to get over the look in Spike’s eyes when he’d held that knife to the officer’s throat. He wasn’t sure Spike had been _that_ crazy when he was a vampire. On the other hand, it somehow didn’t bother him all that much. After all, Spike was on their side, and a little crazy was good if you were talking about hanging with the Slayer. Hell, Xander figured he’d gone over the deep end years ago.

 

“Fine,” Spike said shortly, not wanting to talk about it. Not wanting to talk about anything really. Feelings. The whole group always wanted to know about feelings. Harris wasn’t an exception.

 

Xander hesitated, and then said, “You know, if you want to wait outside or something while I go in, it’s fine. If you don’t want to see Riley…”

 

Spike looked at the boy, startled by his perceptiveness. “No. It’s fine.” There was a long pause. “I miss her.”

 

Xander thought about Anya being gone for a few days to see her ex-boyfriend, and understood immediately. “She’ll be back soon.”

 

They walked a little farther, with Xander throwing small glances over at Spike continually. “Spill,” Spike finally said, semi-amused at Xander’s reticence.

 

“It’s nothing.” Xander looked at him again. “Okay, well, it’s just—I like Riley, you know? And I like you too. So I can’t help but feel I’m putting myself in the middle of things here by bringing you guys together.”

 

“We’re not going to exchange blows,” Spike replied, now highly amused.

 

Xander shrugged. “I know. It’s just that if I were going to visit my girlfriend’s ex, I’d be a little—I don’t know—something.”

 

“Who says I’m looking forward to it?” Spike demanded. “But it’s better than staying alone in my apartment, thinking about…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish that thought. “This is better,” he said softly. “Though maybe not by much.”

 

While they were on the subject, Spike thought he’d broach a question that had been bugging him. It wasn’t as though he actually cared about what Buffy’s friends thought, but he knew how important they were to her, like family really, and he didn’t actually have any family of his own. So, if he was going to try to get along with them, he might as well go all the way. “You okay with it? Me and Buffy, I mean. Not that it would change anything,” Spike hastened to assure him. “But I was wondering.”

 

Xander shrugged. “It’s not like Buffy’s ever taken my advice on dating anyway,” he said. “But, I don’t know, it’s cool, I guess. At least you know what being the Slayer is all about. That’s one less secret we have to keep. You’ve been in the game for a long time, even if you were on the other team, but you’re human now, which is a good thing.”

 

“So you’re okay with it?” Spike pressed.

 

“Yeah,” Xander finally said. “It’s not like I knew Riley that well anyway, so I’m not taking sides, if that’s what you’re asking.”  


“Good,” Spike joked. “Because I’d hate to think you’re gonna hold me down while he pummels me.”

 

They locked eyes and relaxed, truly comfortable with each other for the first time. “No pummeling,” Xander agreed. “But maybe a game of pool later?”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy let herself into her dorm room and was disappointed to find it empty. It looked as though Willow hadn’t been back in all the time she’d been gone. She sighed, remembering how she and Angel had fought. Buffy had seen Faith in Angel’s arms and snapped. She should have just gone with it, concentrated on getting the rogue Slayer safely into custody.

 

But, no. She saw red, and said things. Then Angel had said things, and she’d said things back. There had even been fists involved. At least she hadn’t out and out spilled who her new boyfriend was. The last thing she needed was Angel coming to town intent on kicking Spike’s ass.

 

Speaking of Spike… Buffy looked around the empty dorm room and decided that it was the last place she wanted to spend her evening. Spike’s place wasn’t that far from the campus. She could be there in fifteen minutes.

 

Twenty minutes later, Buffy was turning away from Spike’s door dejectedly. Where on earth he would be at this late hour, she had no idea. Unless, of course, he was working late at the gallery. Or possibly hanging with Giles. Or maybe her mother. He did that sometimes.

 

Buffy winced. Spike was more connected to her life than she was. She’d only gotten about half a block away when she heard someone calling her name. “Buffy!”

 

She turned to see Spike jogging towards her. He was still dressed for the gallery in charcoal gray pants and a bright blue shirt, even if he was wearing his combat boots with the dress slacks. “Buffy! You just get back in?” he asked coming up to stand next to her.

 

“Yeah, I just wanted to see you.” Buffy looked away. “I missed you.”

 

Spike smiled at her. “Missed you too, luv,” he replied softly. “You want to go back to my place?”

 

“That would be nice,” Buffy said. They started walking back, and Spike linked his hand with hers. “Willow wasn’t around tonight, and I wanted some company.”

 

“Things didn’t go well with Peaches?” Buffy marveled at how well he could read her.

 

She gave a half laugh. “Something like that.” Buffy shook her head. “I got there and found Faith in Angel’s arms…” She gave Spike the entire story, following him into his apartment, stopping only to comment on his new futon, which was hard to miss.

 

“Got it so we’d both have something to sit on,” he said. “But go on.”

 

She finished her story, telling him everything that was said. Yet another benefit to dating Spike: there was no explanation needed about the whole Angel thing. He’d seen all of it.

 

“Tell the truth, luv,” he said, when Buffy had finally finished. “It wasn’t the fact that Faith was in Angel’s arms, it was that he wouldn’t let you kick her arse into next week.”

 

She pouted. “Well, kind of. I mean, I really wanted to hurt her, Spike. After what she did to me—”

 

“I can’t see that it was all that bad, Buffy,” Spike said, smirking when she shot him a betrayed glare. “Admit it. If Riley hadn’t been a blind git and not noticed you weren’t you, I wouldn’t have had a chance.”

 

Buffy frowned, and then looked uncomfortable. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just—Angel was helping her. He knows what she’s done to me. She’s tried to kill him at least twice.”

 

“Angel has a savior complex,” Spike replied, stroking her hair. They were both sprawled out on the navy cushions of his couch, her head resting on his shoulder. “He has to save Faith, because that means he might actually be able to save himself.”

 

Buffy craned her neck to look up at him. “What about you, Spike? Why aren’t you interested in saving people?”

 

He laughed. “I have enough trouble getting myself to work on time and not getting killed to worry about saving anyone. Besides, isn’t that your job description?”

 

Buffy smacked him on the chest. “Spike! It’s not funny.”

 

Spike sobered and drew her to him again. “People don’t get saved, luv. They save themselves. My guess, Faith wanted to be saved and the poof saw that. And he needs to save people enough that he didn’t even think about what it would do to you.” He paused, then added, “That, and he didn’t expect you to come walking through his door.”

 

The Slayer glowered. “Now why do you have to be all reasonable about it? Why can’t you just threaten to beat him up like a good boyfriend?”

 

Spike smiled, a long, slow smile that showed his dimples. “Never get tired of you calling me that,” he confessed.

 

Buffy shook her head and laughed. “You always do that.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Cheer me up.”

 

Spike shifted so they could look each other in the eyes, and he brought a hand up to stroke her cheek. “It’s my pleasure.”

 

Buffy could feel a shiver go up her spine as his voice dropped about an octave. He leaned in to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. Pulling back, he smiled, then leaned in again. She would have to say that Spike was pretty much the best kisser ever. He nibbled, he plunged, he came up for air only to trail feathery kisses down the column of her neck. He made love to her with his mouth, until Buffy could think of nothing but the moment and him.

 

Spike’s hand blazed a heated trail on the smooth skin of her stomach and back, wandering, though never too far. He made sensuous patterns with his fingers, driving Buffy to do her own exploring, pulling the hem of his shirt out of the waistband of his slacks.

 

The feel of her hands on his belt buckle snapped Spike out of the moment and back into reality. “Wait,” he gasped, as Buffy’s hands skimmed sensitive skin. “Buffy, wait.” He pulled back from her, scrambling to his feet and over into the chair to put a little breathing room between the two of them.

 

Buffy was still a little dazed from the waves of emotion (along with a healthy portion of lust) and was having trouble keeping up. “Spike? What—”

 

“We can’t do this,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

 

Buffy blinked. Last time she checked, “can’t” was definitely not in their vocabulary. They had been doing just fine. “Okay… Huh?”

 

Spike swallowed. “I can’t do this, luv. How am I supposed to look your mum in the eye tomorrow?”

 

Buffy frowned thoughtfully. She had to admit it was a little awkward to have her boyfriend working with her mother. On the other hand, she was a grown adult, and it wasn’t as though Spike was deflowering an innocent. “First of all,” she said, answering his question patiently enough for someone who’d just been interrupted, “I’m an adult, and I’m not living at home. Secondly, she’s not going to know unless you or I tell her. So I’m not seeing the problem here.”

 

Spike flushed. “It’s just—it’s a bit strange, working with your mum and all.”

 

“Spike, it’s not like—” Buffy cut that statement off before she finished. The only one of her boyfriends that Joyce had known about was Angel. Her mom wasn’t even aware that she had been dating Riley. And bringing up the fact that Joyce knew about her night with Angel was probably just the thing to say to make sure the moment was completely dead. “Mom knows I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” It seemed the best compromise.

 

He shook his head. “I know, an’ it’s not like my intentions aren’t honorable, but—”

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow. Honorable intentions? That was a little archaic. Her eyes narrowed as she picked up on his heightened tension, remembering his averted eyes when she’d stayed the night a few days ago. She thought perhaps she might be talking with the part of Spike that would always be William. “What is this really about, Spike?”

 

Spike looked a lot like a rabbit caught in the headlights. His shoulders slumped, and he replied in a low voice, “I’ve never done this before.”

 

“But you were with Drusilla forever,” she protested. “And I know you weren’t with Harmony for the conversation.”

 

“As a human,” was his muttered explanation.

 

She blinked twice, slowly, as she realized what he meant. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh,” she repeated. “You mean you were a—before you, uh, you know?”

 

He looked at her glumly. “Yeah, I was a sodding virgin before Dru turned me,” he said, filling in her blanks. Of course, it wasn’t as though he didn’t remember what was supposed to go where; William had been a virgin, Spike certainly was not. On the other hand, he wasn’t at all sure what this meant to Buffy, if sex was simply supposed to be casual. The part of him that was still William wanted it to be romantic, special, right.

 

“That’s good,” Buffy said, trying for cheerful, and probably sounding a lot like she had when assuring Willow that lesbianism was a perfectly legitimate lifestyle choice. “I mean, that’s, you know, a good thing.” What she was really thinking was that Spike had probably slept with fewer people than she had, and he was six times her age. Buffy wasn’t sure what that meant.

 

Spike stood, suddenly angry. The evening had been going quite nicely, and now he was embarrassed and feeling absurdly guilty. “It’s just, I’ve never been with a human, Buffy. And I’ve never been—I don’t know what’s different. I don’t—Bloody hell, I sound like a sodding prat.”

 

Buffy smiled, amused, though he was perfectly serious. “You don’t sound like a ‘prat,’ Spike, whatever that is. Sit down.”

 

He ignored her request, remaining on his feet. “It’s just, there’s a part of me that wants you so bad I can taste it,” he said, desperate to explain. “But there’s this other part of me that isn’t sure. I want—I want this to be right, between us, you know? Spent a hundred years with Dru only to find out it didn’t mean all that much. I want _us_ to be special. I want _this_ to be special.” Spike sighed deeply. “Am I making any sense at all?”

 

“Tons,” Buffy assured him, because he was. When had sex last meant something “special” to her? Well, it had been special between her and Angel—so special he lost his soul, in fact. Parker had just been a horrible mistake, and Riley—Sex had become a part of their relationship as a matter of course. They had never sat down and talked about it; they had killed the Polgara demon and suddenly they were both ready to tear each others’ clothes off. It had been a natural progression, but now Buffy wondered if the physical part hadn’t rapidly outstripped the emotional connection. Perhaps that was why Riley hadn’t known she wasn’t in her own body. Maybe they’d never had that emotional connection at all.

 

Buffy couldn’t help but think it was odd that it was Spike who was hesitating, and she was the one who was ready to jump in.

 

Spike, for his part, was completely torn. Torn between wanting Buffy any way he could get her, and waiting for the right moment. Wanting there to be a right moment. Wanting to hear that she loved him first. They were dating, but Buffy hadn’t told him how she felt. Neither one of them had used the “l” word yet. And she had just gotten back from L.A., after having a rough visit with her ex, and was coming off a relationship with Riley. There was a small part of Spike that harbored the suspicion that Buffy really didn’t want him, that one of these days she’d realize she’d made a mistake, and it would all be over.

 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

 

Buffy shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s nice to not be pressured. We can take our time.”

 

He smiled in relief. Then, quietly, his voice earnest and low, he said, “You know, don’t you, luv? About what my intentions are?”

 

It was Buffy’s turn to look like a rabbit in the headlights. She had a feeling Spike was going to tell her, and she found his intensity almost frightening. The last time a guy had gotten that intense about their relationship, he’d tried to kill her and all her friends. She shook her head mutely. “I don’t leave, Buffy.” Spike’s blue eyes bored into hers. “I won’t leave, ever, unless you ask me to.”

 

“I don’t think I could ask you to.” Buffy reached out a hand to touch his arm from where she sat on the couch. Even across the distance, she could feel the pull. She remembered something from her science class about gravity, that if you got to a certain distance away from an object, its pull was unavoidable, inescapable. Was it called the gravitational well, or something like that? It didn’t matter; she and Spike had somehow slipped into orbit around each other without even knowing it.

 

Some of the lines in his face eased as he read the meaning behind her words in her eyes. This thing that was between them meant something to her too. “Will you stay tonight?” Spike asked softly. “Just—be with me?”

 

“Yes.” Buffy let him take her hand, tug her back towards the bedroom. In her heart she couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t mind being with this man forever.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike woke early the next morning, before the alarm, and reached over to shut it off to prevent it from waking Buffy. Propping himself up on one elbow, he studied her still face, tracing the contours of cheek and lips with his eyes.

 

Somewhere along the way, he had lost his heart to this girl, this Slayer. The part of him that was still William would offer her a ring if he thought she might take it. He frowned slightly. It didn’t quite feel right, what they were doing.

 

Not that he felt being with Buffy was wrong, but it felt like something was missing, like there was intent, but no follow through. When he was human, the first time, there were very strict procedures for courting a woman, and really, that’s what he wanted. He didn’t just want to date, he wanted to make something permanent with her.

 

Spike reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, watching as her breath quickened and her eyelids fluttered in preparation of waking. She smiled when she saw him, and he thought his heart might stop beating. “’Morning.”

 

“Good morning, luv,” he replied.

 

“Whatcha doing?” Buffy asked, her voice still cloudy with sleep.

 

He smiled at her. “Watching you. I’ve been thinking…” Spike said hesitantly.

 

“About what? Because you look entirely too serious for this early in the morning,” she teased.

 

Spike made a movement that might have been a shrug. “It’s just that—when I was human, before, if a bloke wanted to call on a girl, he talked to her parents first. Doesn’t seem right that your mum doesn’t know about us.”

 

“So what happens when she says she won’t let you date me?”

 

Spike blinked, suddenly worried. “You really think she will?”

 

“No, Spike,” Buffy replied laughing. “Mom loves you. She’s not going to say no. I just wondered what you would do if she did say no.”

 

Spike glared at her. “That wasn’t funny, luv.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Buffy said. “The look on your face was priceless. But seriously, what would you do?”

 

“Uh, keep seeing you and wait for your mum to come around,” he replied. “It would make things a bit awkward though.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Awkward would be one word. It is a little weird to have my boyfriend working with my mom. And speaking of parents, if you’re going to do this right, you should probably talk to Giles too.”

 

Spike winced. “You know, this is easier when you only have to do the talk once.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Buffy said, smiling. “Besides, better you explaining this than me. In fact, I could get used to this thing where the guy explains it to the parents. Definitely takes the pressure off.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was going through the pile of invoices when Joyce came into the back. “I wanted to talk to you,” she said.

 

His head came up, the look on his face a little guilty. “What’s that?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Joyce repeated. “I have another buying trip in a few days, and I just wanted to go over a few things with you.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Spike said. “Sure.”

 

“I also wanted to ask if you had any ideas about our display for this summer,” she continued.

 

He stared at her. “Me?”

 

“You,” she replied, amused. “You have a good eye, William, and a strong sense for what people will enjoy. So what do you think?”

 

Spike leaned back in his chair. “This summer, huh?” He frowned slightly. “Photography,” he said decidedly. “A nice mix of local talent, and maybe something from out of town. Summer’s the time for people taking pictures.”

 

Joyce nodded. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “I think I have a couple artists from southern California in mind.”

 

“Great,” he said, knowing now was probably the best time to talk to Joyce about his relationship with her daughter. “Uh, there was something I wanted to talk to you about too.” She sat down in the other chair in the office, looking attentive. “It’s about Buffy.”

 

Joyce didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for his explanation. “Way I was raised, it was only proper to ask a girl’s parents if you could call on her. Know it’s a bit different now, but I thought it was only right to let you know Buffy ang I are seeing each other.”

 

“And what are your intentions?” Joyce asked, her face completely serious.

 

Spike didn’t realize she was teasing him, and he responded with solemnity. “Completely honorable.”

 

Joyce couldn’t help laughing. Spike was so serious, as if he thought she would really disapprove. “I’m very happy for the both of you,” she said. “But I already knew. Buffy never comes to the gallery; if she was coming here, it wasn’t to see me.”

 

Spike caught the note in her voice he knew she was trying to hide, the sense that Buffy had forgotten about her. “Well, she wanted to be the one to tell you, but I insisted that she let me,” he lied.

 

Joyce raised an eyebrow, and he knew he’d been caught out. “I’m fine, Spike. Buffy has her own life now, and that’s the way it should be.”

 

“But she’ll always need her mum,” he replied, his eyes showing a wisdom that belied the youthfulness of his features. “She may not know it just yet, but she’d be lost without you, Joyce.”

 

Joyce shook her head. “She wouldn’t be lost. Not when she has someone like you looking after her.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stood outside Giles’ flat and knocked. He’d meant what he said to Buffy. That was the benefit to a society where people didn’t get divorced. He hadn’t bothered asking Buffy if he should talk to her father. From what both she and Joyce had said, the man hadn’t been involved in their lives for a very long time, the wanker. No, if he was going to talk to Buffy’s father, the man to see was her Watcher.

 

A muffled voice called for him to enter, and Spike pushed the door open to find Giles in the middle of a pile of books. “You know, you shouldn’t just ask people in like that,” he admonished. “Never know who it is you’re inviting inside.”

 

“It’s broad daylight, Spike,” Giles replied huffily. “There is very little chance it would be a vampire at my door.”

 

“Could be a demon though,” Spike pointed out.

 

“A demon doesn’t usually need an invitation, as I recall,” the Watcher replied. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Wanted to talk to you about something.” Spike sat down in Giles’ chair and worried the fabric of his jeans with his fingers. He was supposed to meet Buffy later, and so had decided to change at the gallery. While black was not necessarily the color of choice anymore, he was still more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt. Today it happened to be a blue shirt. Buffy had said she liked him in that color.

 

“Well?” Giles asked, when Spike didn’t continue.

 

Spike glared at him. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

 

Giles wasn’t in the best of moods. He’d been feeling a bit out of sorts for a while now, much as he had when Spike had first come to him. Superfluous. That’s the word for how he felt. “Spike. I’m trying to do important research here.”

 

“On Adam?” Spike asked. “You’re not going to find anything with his name on it in your books. That’s half our problem right there. Like mixin two worlds that shouldn’t have ever been mixed. Science and magic. It’s not right.”

 

Giles slammed the book shut. “Of course. Now that I know I won’t find anything, I can stop looking. Thank you for your information.”

 

Spike gave him a perceptive look. “Rupert, the Slayer doesn’t know how we’re going to stop this thing, either, but we’re going to need everybody on board for this.”

 

“I’m fine,” Giles replied, in the exact same voice Joyce had used. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. This wasn’t going well, though not through any fault of his own that he could see. “I came to let you know that Buffy and I were seeing each other and to ask for your blessing if you’d give it.”

 

Giles snorted. “As though she needs my permission.”

 

“She doesn’t,” Spike agreed. “But it’s the right thing to do, so I’m asking, even if she wouldn’t.”

 

“And if I say no?”

 

Spike shrugged. “I’d have to talk you ‘round,” he admitted. “I can be persuasive when I want.”

 

Giles laughed. “I would imagine you can. But it’s fine, Spike. Even if she weren’t a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, I have no qualms about the two of you seeing one another.”

 

Spike nodded. “Good. That’s settled then. There’s something else, though.”

 

“What’s that?” Giles asked, tiredly.

 

“I want you to start training me,” Spike replied steadily.

 

Giles stared at him. “What? Now?”

 

“Yeah, now,” Spike replied. “Before, you said it was about Adam, and giving me a chance to recover, but you’re going to need all the help you can get with Mr. Bits-‘n-Pieces, and I’m recovered. If Buffy’s not taking advantage of your infinite wisdom, then I will.”

 

Giles looked skeptical. “I’m not sure—”

 

“I am,” Spike interrupted. “I want to help, and to do that I need to know what I can do. I assumed being human meant I wasn’t any good to anybody anymore, but that’s not true. Learned that when I went into the Initiative.”

 

Giles nodded slowly. “Very well then. I must insist that you actually listen to me, however. I will not have insubordination while I’m training you.”

 

“What? Like you didn’t get from Buffy?” Spike asked facetiously.

 

Giles’ eyes narrowed. “Do you want the training?”

 

“I will follow every order you give, oh fearless leader,” Spike replied with a smile.

 

Giles decided to ignore that. “Then we will start with the quarterstaff.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was altogether pleased when he left Giles to meet Buffy at her dorm. Despite months of relative inactivity, he’d managed to defend himself quite well, and had even given the Watcher a couple thwaps he wouldn’t soon forget. He had every hope that with regular training, he would even be able to assist Buffy on patrol without putting himself in any real danger.

 

Whistling softly to himself, Spike walked through Stevenson Hall, approaching Buffy’s door in time to see her trying to unlock it with a trembling hand. “Buffy?”

 

She turned slowly, and Spike could see that she’d been banged up pretty badly. “Spike, I—”

 

“Let me get that,” he said, ignoring her protests and taking the keys out of her hand. He unlocked the door and gently guided her inside with one hand on her back. “Sit. Where’s your first aid kit?”

 

“In the drawer,” she replied, not really wanting to fight him. Spike found the kit and quickly ducked out of the room to wet the washcloth he’d found.

 

“Hold still.” He tenderly dabbed at the cut on her head, wincing in sympathy as she flinched away. “What happened?”

 

She breathed out a sigh. “I went patrolling near the area where they found that boy. Adam’s first victim. I ran into Forrest, one of Riley’s buds, and he wouldn’t leave, so we both went into this cave. Adam was there. It’s like he came out of nowhere. I told Forrest, the dumbass, that he should leave, but—Adam got him.” The last part was said so quietly Spike almost didn’t catch it.

 

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” he said. When Buffy wouldn’t look him in the eye, Spike tipped her chin up. “Slayer, it wasn’t your fault. He was a soldier. He knew the risks, and he didn’t listen to you. You ask me, he was looking for trouble.”

 

“I know that,” Buffy replied. When he looked doubtful, she repeated, “I know that. It’s just—we need to stop him, Spike. This has to end.”

 

He nodded slowly. “Then we’ll go together. You said Adam’s got vamps and demons working together, and the Initiative is going on overtime. We’ll go looking for a vamp—I still know some of the old haunts—and we’ll beat the shit out of him till he tells us what we want to know, or at least how to find it.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Spike, it’s too dangerous.”

 

He gave her a look. “I can take care of myself, Slayer,” he replied. “Remember?”

 

“I remember. I just don’t want to lose you.”

 

Spike drew her close to him so the uninjured side of her head was resting against his chest. “Not going anywhere,” he said. “We’ll give it a bit. You’re hurt. But we’ll go out tonight, when you’re a bit better, yeah?”

 

“Okay.” They sat there for a while, unmoving except for Spike’s rhythmic stroking of Buffy’s hair. She was relaxed in his embrace, feeling for the first time in a long time that she was the one being taken care of rather than her being the one doing the caring.

 

There was a knock on the door, and Spike gave her a squeeze around the shoulders. “I’ll get it.” Spike rose and opened the door to find Angel standing in front of him.

 

“Spike,” the vampire snarled, throwing himself at the invisible barrier. “Where’s Buffy? What did you do to her?”

 

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Buffy said, coming up to stand behind Spike. “He’s welcome here.”

 

Angel nearly snarled again, his split lip and bruises livid against his pale skin. “Spike is dangerous. Buffy, you have to let me in.”

 

“Only if you promise not to touch my boyfriend,” Buffy said sternly. At Angel’s look of surprise, Buffy repeated herself. “Spike is my boyfriend. I don’t let anybody touch my boyfriend. Do I have your word?”

 

“Yeah,” Angel replied sullenly.

 

“Then come in, Angel.” No sooner had she said the words than Angel was through the barrier with his hands around Spike’s neck. “Angel! I said—”

 

Angel’s hands came off just that quickly. “You’re human,” he said, in disbelief.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Spike said, self-righteously straightening his clothing. “Didn’t you hear two heartbeats, Peaches? Or are you slipping in your old age?”

 

Angel was still in too much shock to come up with a decent comeback. “You’re human.”

 

“Think we went over this,” Spike said.

 

“How?” he asked.

 

Spike snorted. “Combination Mohra demon blood and the Initiative.” He gave Angel another look. “Who’d you run into?”

 

Angel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not life and death. Mohra blood?” As the information sunk in, he looked from Spike to Buffy with the slow realization that Spike had everything he’d given up. As Angel processed that bit of news, Spike read the emotions flitting across his face.

 

“You knew about the demon blood,” Spike said.

 

The look on Angel’s face told both him and Buffy that he’d hit the nail on the head, and Spike knew that there was probably more to the story than that. But Angel just shook his head. “Mohra demons don’t come from this dimension. It’s almost impossible to capture or kill them.”

 

“Well, luckily for us, the Initiative managed it,” Buffy said. She could sense that Angel wasn’t telling her the entire story as well, but something told her she didn’t want to push it. The same little voice that told her if she did know, she’d have to stake somebody. “What are you doing here, Angel?”

 

Angel tore his eyes away from Spike. “I wanted to apologize. We didn’t leave things very well last time. I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t have much time.”

 

Buffy frowned, knowing from experience that hearing Angel use that tone of voice wasn’t a good thing. “What’s going on?”

 

Riley barreled through the open door, steadying himself against Willow’s desk and pointing a gun in Angel’s direction. “Buffy, he’s dangerous. You can’t trust him.”

 

Buffy and Spike both looked from one battered face to the other. “I can’t believe this,” she said flatly. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“This was a mistake,” Angel said, trying to placate her. Spike had a hard time not laughing. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Buffy this pissed off, and he’d seen her angry. Somebody was going to be hurting over this one.

 

“No, the mistake was you coming back to Sunnydale,” Buffy replied, furious.

 

Angel looked over at Riley. “Put the gun down.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Riley replied. “It’s pretty much all I’ve got left. Buffy, he attacked four of my men. He’s dangerous.”

 

Spike raised an incredulous eyebrow. “If Angelus was up to his old tricks, you’d be dead, mate. Besides, little gun like that won’t even slow him down before he snaps your neck, Finn.”

 

“And they attacked me first,” Angel added.

 

“He’s a vampire. He’s evil.” Riley seemed quite sure about that.

 

“Angel’s not evil and he’s not going to hurt anybody.” She looked at Angel. “Tell him.”

 

Angel gave Riley a cold little smile. “I don’t know. I might hurt you.”

 

“Try it,” Riley invited.

 

“You can hardly stand.”

 

“Trigger finger feels okay.”

 

“That’s just about enough!” Spike exploded. “I was having a nice moment here with my girl before you lot showed up and ruined it. Buffy was hurt earlier, and you’re both making it worse.” He turned to glare at Riley. “Put the gun down.”

 

“But—”

 

“Put. The. Gun. Down. Now.”

 

Something in Spike’s eyes warned Riley that he was dead serious, and he lowered his weapon slowly. “Right then. Hallway, now.”

 

Riley looked like he was going to argue, and Spike grabbed his arm. “We’re going outside. Angel—” He looked at Angel, a fire in his eyes. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

 

Buffy watched as Spike firmly steered Riley out into the hallway and said a silent word of thanks. He knew her so well, and she was glad she could count on him. She waited until Spike had shut the door and then faced Angel. “So, you and Spike?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. Me and Spike.” Buffy hesitated. “He’s been human for a while now, but this—between us—is pretty new.”

 

“That’s—good.” Angel frowned. “Look, Buffy, I’m sorry about this. I came to apologize, and…”

 

“What happened with Riley?” she asked.

 

Angel shrugged. “I got jumped by some of his men, and he ended up in the middle. He wasn’t real forthcoming with the benefit of the doubt.”

 

Buffy sighed. “Put yourself in his shoes, Angel.”

 

“Things are pretty tense around here,” he observed.

 

She nodded. “They are.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

 

She shook her head. “We both said some things to regret. You were right, Angel. We’re at a different place now, both of us.”

 

“And you have Spike.” Angel looked over at her. “I want you to be happy, Buffy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

 

“He makes me happy,” she said quietly. “He knows me.”

 

Angel shook his head, laughing a little. “Who knew?”

 

“I don’t know. Not me.”

 

“Do you want my help?” he asked.

 

Buffy shook her head. “No. I think it would just complicate things more than they are already.”

 

“All right.” Angel moved to the door, his hand on the doorknob. “You know, Buffy…Spike.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I told you once, he doesn’t give up.” Angel smiled a little.

 

Buffy smiled in reply. “I know.”

 

Angel nodded, and walked out the door. Spike was standing in the hallway alone. “Riley?”

 

“Left.” Spike shrugged. “Actually, I convinced him he didn’t want to stick around. Boy’s supposed to be keeping a low profile anyway.”

 

“You hurt her, I’ll be back,” Angel promised.

 

“If I hurt her, I’ll stand still for you,” Spike replied. There was a moment of silence, and then Spike said, “You know, about the pokers…wish I could say I was sorry for that.”

 

Angel almost laughed. “Take care of yourself, Spike. Humans are a little more breakable.”

 

“And you’re speaking from experience,” Spike said knowingly. “I’ll do that.”

 

~~~~~

 

It actually didn’t take them nearly as long to find a vampire with information as it should have. A scrawny excuse for a member of the undead literally ran across their path almost as soon as they started hunting, and he practically threw himself at their feet. Buffy got in a few good blows, the vampire pitched a few computer disks at their feet, and then scrambled away as quickly as possible. Buffy might have gone after him, but Spike held her back. “Let him go, luv. That wasn’t an accident.”

 

“No, that was Adam trying to get our attention,” Buffy said. “It shouldn’t have been that easy.”

 

Spike looked around. “So what are we going to do about it?”

 

“Let Willow take a look at these and hope it gives us the information we need,” Buffy replied. “What else can we do?”

 

“It’s a trap,” Spike objected.

 

She shrugged. “We have to stop Adam, though. So what if it’s a trap? We’ll just have to find a way to use that against him.”

 

Spike shrugged. “If you say so, luv. Let’s get these to Red and see what we can do from there then.”

 

When they got to Giles’ apartment, Spike could feel that there was something in the air that was off. In the past, when he’d spent time with the group, or when he was fighting them, they’d been a tight-knit bunch. Their closeness was one of the reasons he’d never been able to defeat Buffy, but now… He was vaguely reminded of how it was after Angelus had returned, when Dru had left him to his own devices for her “Daddy.” Of course, it wasn’t at all the same, but that’s what it reminded him of.

 

Willow got to working her techno-magic on her laptop, making a worried face when she saw the complicated encryption. “Well, this isn’t good.”

 

Buffy came over to stand behind her. “What’s wrong?”

 

“The data is encrypted,” Willow explained. “And it’s a little complicated.”

 

“So how long before you can un-crypt it?” Buffy asked.

 

Willow gave her a look that said it would be better if she didn’t ask. “Days. Weeks. Months probably wouldn’t be a bad estimate.”

 

“We don’t have that long,” Buffy protested. “Adam obviously has something in mind, and we need to have a counter-plan.”

 

Spike leaned back in his chair, watching the entire thing. Giles and Xander were both looking unhappy, and Anya and Tara were beginning to get twitchy. They were smart girls; they knew when there was a storm brewing.

 

“Working as fast as I can here,” Willow replied huffily.

 

Buffy frowned. “Okay, well, Adam was at the cave for a reason. Maybe I could go back there and scope it out, figure out where he went.”

 

“Oh, right, so you can try and get yourself killed again?” Xander objected. “You’re not going by yourself.”

 

Buffy shook her head. “You’d just get hurt, Xander. It’s better if I go by myself.”

 

Spike bit back a sigh. He could already see where this was going. Giles’ dissatisfaction earlier that evening, Xander’s complaints the other night while they’d played pool, how no one thought much of him. Red’s hiding her new life from her friends.

 

“You haven’t been training,” Giles said, disgruntled. “Adam will kick your ass.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened, and she stared at Giles. “He will not. And today was just a fluke.”

 

“Enough.” Spike stood. He had to be up early tomorrow to open at the gallery, and he wasn’t entirely happy with the situation himself. What he’d really wanted was a nice quiet snog with his girl, involving plenty of making out and wandering hands. Instead he got fighting. Riley and Angel, now the Scoobies and the Slayer. Well, he had better things to do and more important places to be.

 

“You’re all a bit pissed at each other. You haven’t properly talked for months, and you’ve all got your separate lives.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “My advice? Hash it out among yourselves and get ready to fight the good fight. Slayers die young ‘cause they don’t have anybody watching their backs. You lot have already beaten the odds. So what if you’ve all got separate lives? Doesn’t mean anything in the long run.”

 

Spike picked up his jacket and got ready to leave. “Spike?” Buffy called.

 

“I’ll be at my place should you need me. Let me know the plan, and I’ll be happy to participate, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow, and I don’t need to waste my time sitting around, listening to you argue over who’s doing more, or who doesn’t appreciate who.”

 

He walked out into the night air and took a deep breath. There was something to say about solitude, he thought. There was definitely something to say about solitude.


	13. United We Stand

**“Wherever you go, you know I’ll be there/If you go far, you know I’ll be there/I’ll go anywhere, so I’ll see you there/You place the name, you know I’ll be there/You name the time you know I’ll be there/I’ll go anywhere, so I’ll see you there/I don’t care if you don’t mind/I’ll be there not far behind/I will dare, keep in mind/I’ll be there for you/Where there’s truth, you know I’ll be there/Amongst the lies you know I’ll be there/I’ll go anywhere, so I’ll see you there./If you should fall, you know I’ll be there/To catch the call, you know I’ll be there/I’ll go anywhere, so I’ll see you there.” ~Greenday, “Poprocks and Coke”**

 

Giles entered the gallery, looking around cautiously. He had never thought to come here before the night of the band candy, and he had never been comfortable visiting after that. It was too bad really, because it was a place he might have spent many enjoyable hours.

 

“Mr. Giles? Can I help you?” Joyce came out of the back, giving him a hesitant smile.

 

He smiled in reply. “Yes, actually, you can call me Giles, or Rupert if you prefer.”

 

“Of course.” Joyce shook her head, laughing a little. “I suppose we should be on a first name basis. After…”

 

“Yes, well, I suppose so.” Giles cleared his throat and didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I was actually looking for William. Is he around?”

 

“He’s running an errand,” Joyce explained. “Can I do anything for you?”

 

Giles shook his head. “No. No, I shouldn’t think so. I have a feeling we’re going to need his help, however. Spike has been quite—helpful lately.”

 

“He really has,” she agreed. “I don’t know what I might have done without him these last few months.”

 

Giles smiled and looked down at his shoes. “I think we might all say the same.” There was a lull in the conversation, as neither of them seemed to know what to say. “Joyce, I know we haven’t always been friends, but I wanted you to know that I have the utmost respect for you.”

 

“Likewise,” Joyce said sincerely. “In some ways, I almost feel as though we have two children in common now.”

 

“Indeed, I suppose we do in a way.” Their eyes met in mutual understanding, and suddenly they both knew that they would part this time as friends, and not just acquaintances. Giles opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps to ask a question, but he never got the chance.

 

The bell over the door rang as Spike came back in. “Rupert? Is everything alright?”

 

“Quite alright,” Giles assured him. “But we’re setting things up, and we need all the help we can get.”

 

Spike cast a look back at his boss. “Joyce…?”

 

“Go, William,” she said. “Be careful.”

 

“Always,” he replied, giving her a cheeky grin and a quick peck on the cheek. Giles followed him out of the gallery. “Did you lot work things out then?”

 

“Something like that,” Giles said. “At least we agreed that we needed to work together right now.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “We’re going to need a little more than that to defeat Adam. We need the whole team on board here.”

 

“The ‘team’ is on board,” Giles replied stiffly. “We’re still working out the details, but Willow managed to decode the disks early this morning.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief,” Spike said sarcastically. “We’ve got the information that’s going to lead us into a trap, and we’re all just fine with being pissed off at each other.”

 

“Spike…”

 

“No,” Spike said firmly. “You’re the Watcher—”

 

“Not anymore,” Giles muttered.

 

Spike ran right over that comment. “You’re the Watcher, which means you get to be the adult in all this. What everybody seems to forget is that they’re children. Children who’ve started down different roads, and haven’t figured out what that means yet. You’ve been around the block, you know about changes.”

 

The Watcher stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

 

“I know I’m right,” was Spike’s rather cocky reply. “Buck up, Rupert. Might not know it now, but they’ll always need you. And your books.”

 

Giles glared at him, though there was a suspicious twinkle in his eye. “Pillock.”

 

“Git.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Riley’s a no-show, huh?” Spike asked, as they got to Giles’ apartment.

 

The older man shook his head. “Buffy went to the high school, but he’s nowhere to be found. No one else has seen him either, not since last night.”

 

“And Harris and his girl? They going to be in on this?”

 

Giles shrugged. “Xander seemed to think he would be here. I’m not sure that we really need Anya, however. Just the core group.”

 

“And I’m part of the core group, huh?” Spike asked, a hint of wonder interlaced with smugness in his voice.

 

Giles looked over at him. “You’ve proven yourself more than once, Spike. So, yes, as a matter of fact, you are one of us now. As frightening as that sounds.”

 

“So what are we waiting for?” Spike asked.

 

“Now?” Both men turned to see Willow standing in the doorway. “Just Buffy and Xander. Unless Buffy has news, we’ve got all the information we’re going to have.”

 

There was an awkward silence as they waited for Buffy to arrive. Willow had left a message at the dorm for her to come to Giles’ place whenever she got done with her patrol. They might have put a lid on their disagreement of the previous night, but that didn’t mean the tension wasn’t there. Spike could sense it simmering just below the surface, a heady maelstrom of resentment and mistrust. It only got thicker when Xander arrived, a sullen look on his face as he tried not to meet anyone’s eyes.

 

Spike sighed. He wasn’t used to being the one in a position to smooth things over; in the past, he’d always been the one to stir things up. “Does anyone here think Harris is a loser?” he asked to the room at large.

 

Three pairs of eyes swung around to stare at him, startled. “Huh?” Willow asked.

 

“Does anybody here think Harris is a loser?”

 

“Of course not,” Willow said indignantly. “Xander’s never been a loser.”

 

“And Rupert?” Spike asked casually. “You lot think you could do without him?”

 

Xander frowned. “Without the G-Man? No. I mean, he’s the only one that usually knows anything.”

 

“What about Willow? You all think she’s losing her mind, what between all the witchcraft, and the new girlfriend?”

 

Giles shook his head. “No. Willow’s ability is much appreciated, and Tara seems like a perfectly nice girl.”

 

Spike smirked. “Good. Now that we’ve gotten that all cleared up, we can move on.”

 

Just then, Buffy came through the door. Looking around at the rather bemused expression on all her friends’ faces, she had to ask, “Okay, so what’d I miss?”

 

“Harris isn’t a loser, Willow’s still alright, and you’d be lost without Rupert. I miss anything?”

 

Buffy stared at him. “What?”

 

Spike didn’t really reply. “We’re just moving past last night’s little discussion and making war plans. You got anything to add to that, luv?”

 

Buffy took in his smug look, glanced over at Giles, who seemed rather sheepish, and her friends, who were looking rather bemused themselves. She shrugged. “Spike and I are in a serious dating relationship. And he’s really old fashioned.” Buffy grinned at him and turned to Willow, who was trying very hard to hide a snigger. “What have we got, Will?”

 

“I managed to get the computer disks decoded. Well, actually, they pretty much started decoding themselves,” Willow stated. “It’s pretty clear that someone wanted us to have that information.”

 

“Adam,” Buffy stated flatly. The atmosphere in the room was rapidly turning serious. “He’s moved out of the cave he was using as his lair. Whatever he’s planning, it’s going to happen soon. What was on those disks, Willow?”

 

Willow frowned in concentration, her nose wrinkling. “Well, a bunch of stuff that we already knew about 314, but also there’s something there about a final phase. Apparently, Adam’s going to construct a bunch of creepy cyber-demons just like him.”

 

“Oh, that’s fun,” Xander commented. Everyone was leaning in now, interested, and Spike noticed the change in the room. This was the reason why Buffy and her friends had always been able to defeat him. Give them a challenge, and there was no breaking them apart. Presented with an outside enemy, and they were ready for a fight, completely united.

 

“Okay, so where’s this construction going to take place?” Buffy asked.

 

“Somewhere in the Initiative, in a secret lab,” Willow explained. “The disks didn’t say exactly where.”

 

Buffy let out a breath. “Well, I’ll give the demon his due. He gave this a lot of thought.”

 

Spike nodded, knowing where she was going with her line of thinking. “Because the demons were going after the Initiative boys and leaving you alone,” he stated. “They wanted inside.”

 

“My guess is that Adam’s going to let them loose on the soldiers,” Buffy agreed.

 

“Demons versus soldiers. Massacre, massacre,” Xander said, whistling under his breath.

 

Giles nodded. “The perfect Trojan horse.”

 

Willow made a face. “And then Adam has a neat pile of body parts that he can make new demons out of. Diabolical, yet…gross.”

 

“Does anyone else miss the Mayor ‘I wanna be a big snake?’” Xander asked facetiously. Spike couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The boy never could resist the opportunity to crack a joke during a serious moment.

 

“I’ve got to shut him down now, Giles,” Buffy said quietly. “There’s no way I can let this happen.”

 

“Perhaps we should warn the Initiative?” Giles suggested.

 

Buffy shook her head. “They’re not going to listen to us, or Riley, since he’s a deserter. If we could even find him to ask him to pass on the message.”

 

“Okay, I’m confused again,” Xander said. “Adam’s got this evil plan, but he seems pretty anxious for you to know about it. Isn’t he worried you might kill him?”

 

“No, he’s really not.” Buffy bit her lip. She was used to arrogant evil guys. The Master, Spike, the Mayor, Angelus: they had all been pretty cocky until she shut them down. Adam worried her, however. She had watched Forrest shoot him with his Initiative-issue weapon, and the cyber-demon had lapped it up. He really did seem indestructible.

 

She felt Spike’s hand slip into hers, and she glanced over at him. He’d come to stand behind her, and she could feel the strength of his presence. “He doesn’t have to be worried about you killing him, luv,” the ex-vampire reminded her, reading her mind. “Him being worried doesn’t change the fact that you’re gonna rip him into tiny pieces.”

 

Willow grinned. “No kidding. The Mayor thought he had it under wraps until we blew him up. We’ll take Adam down just like we’ve taken down every other bad guy.”

 

“I’m not sure blowing Adam up is going to work in this case,” Buffy said, smiling a little at the support. “According to Riley, he has some sort of uranium core near his spine. That’s what we need to get to.”

 

“Great, so we ask him to lay down while we perform exploratory surgery?” Xander asked sarcastically.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Or, you could hold his arms while Buffy rips it out.” He smirked a little at Xander’s glare.

 

“Oh! Maybe a spell?” Willow suggested. “You know, one that holds him down?”

 

“A paralyzing spell?” Giles asked. He stood and grabbed a book leafing through it. Finding the one he was looking for, the Watcher shook his head. “Only I can’t perform the incantation for this.”

 

Willow’s brow furrowed. “Right. Don’t you have to speak it in ancient Sumerian or something?”

 

Giles looked slightly offended. “I do speak ancient Sumerian. But this spell must be performed by an experienced witch, and within close range of the object in question.”

 

“And they don’t teach Sumerian in schools these days?” Spike asked glibly. “What is this world coming to?”

 

“So what we need,” Xander said, “is combo-Buffy. Her with her Slayerness, Giles with his language know-how, and Willow with her witchy-power.” At Giles’ look, he held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know, I’m just full of good suggestions.”

 

“Actually, you are,” Giles responded, going to his bookshelf for yet another book. As Giles explained the joining spell to them, Spike got the sinking feeling that he was being left out of things. Giles was mentioning heart, mind, spirit and hand, but that didn’t leave a role for ex-vampires.

 

He raised a cautious hand after a while. “Uh, and what about me?”

 

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him. “Oh, Spike,” Willow said, her voice faltering slightly. “You know, there’s only room for three, and, you know, we’ve uh…” The redhead trailed off as she realized that telling Spike that they didn’t need him wasn’t the most tactful way to do it.

 

“Maybe you should stay behind,” Buffy suggested tentatively. “There’s going to be a lot of danger, and—” Spike’s look cut off whatever else she might have said. “Or not.”

 

Spike’s eyes were glinting dangerously. “I’m not letting you go in there without me. Period. If nothing else you can use the extra muscle.” He looked over at Giles. “Besides, what about while you lot are doing the spell? What happens to you?”

 

Giles blinked, unsure of where the question was going. “Well, we will be connected to Buffy, with her in a mystical sense.”

 

Spike shrugged. “Yeah, got that. But what happens to you lot? If something comes after you?”

 

There were looks shared all around. “Uh, yeah,” Xander said, realizing that they had just been about to walk into a death trap, immobilize themselves, and hope for the best. “Maybe Spike should come along. To watch our backs.”

 

“An excellent idea,” Giles concurred, as Willow nodded.

 

Buffy still looked uncertain. “Spike, I don’t know. We’re talking about walking right into a war zone. If you’re there—”

 

“I can watch out for your friends.” Spike gave her a look. “I’m doing this. End of story.”

 

They locked eyes, and to the rest of the room it appeared that they were having a staring contest. Finally, Buffy gave him a slow nod. “You’re right. Somebody needs to look out for them while I’m doing my thing. You know, killing Adam.”

 

Spike mock sighed. “And look how far the Big Bad has fallen. Reduced to a bloody babysitter.” Three indignant “heys” greeted his comment.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike finished tightening the straps on Buffy’s harness. Buffy could have done it herself, but she could feel the worry radiating off of him. She knew very well that there were moments he wished he was still a vampire, and that this was probably one of them. Wished that he had his strength and speed so that he could hope to help her defeat Adam, instead of being “reduced to a bloody babysitter.” Even though it was supposed to be a joke, he had been half-serious, wishing he could be at her side.

 

“Who’s gonna tighten your straps?” Buffy asked him.

 

He gave her a dirty look. “I can tighten my own straps, luv.”

 

“I’m going to be fine.”

 

“I know.” He paused to lay his forehead against hers. “I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate being of no bloody use.”

 

“You’re not useless,” Buffy replied heatedly. “You’re taking care of my friends so I don’t have to worry about them.”

 

“Which is why you didn’t want me along.” Spike raised a scarred eyebrow, his expression telling her exactly what he thought of that sentiment.

 

Buffy smiled. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Spike’s face smoothed and he cocked his head to one side, studying her face. “If I say anything right now,” he whispered, “It’s gonna seem like I’m saying it because we might all die. So I’m not saying it now. I’ll have to tell you later.”

 

“Tell me what later?” she asked.

 

“This.” Spike captured her lips in a kiss, nibbling at her lower lip. They broke away from each other reluctantly. There had been so little time to spend with each other, in their own company and away from the others. Buffy wished they’d had just a little more time. Their eyes met, and Spike smiled, just an upward turn of one corner of his lips. He released her, and Buffy walked to the edge of the elevator shaft.

 

“Watch your back,” she said, before she and Willow began climbing down.

 

Willow threw her friend a smug look. “I knew you two would be perfect for each other.”

 

“What?” Buffy asked.

 

Willow smiled. “Come on. Spike has it so bad for you, it’s not even funny. And I don’t think I ever saw you look at Riley like that.”

 

“Yeah. Spike’s something special,” Buffy agreed. She paused, wanting to get things out in the open. Spike had forced the issue earlier, but she wanted to lay things to rest herself. “Will, I’m sorry things got strained between us.”

 

“It’s okay, Buffy. I mean, the first year of college, you can’t keep the high school gang together always.”

 

“But I want to! Will, I miss you, and Xander, and Giles. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own life, with Riley and the Initiative and then Spike, I lost track of everybody else. I think Spike was trying to tell me that, but I wasn’t listening very well.”

 

Willow gave her friend a sympathetic look. “Buffy, we all messed up. I kept secrets. I should have told you about Tara, but I was scared.”

 

“You can tell me anything,” Buffy assured her. “I love you. You’re my best friend.” They hugged across the distance, Willow echoing Buffy’s words, even as their combined weight sent them plummeting.

 

The two girls lay on the floor, giggling together. Buffy thought that it felt like old times. They pounced on Xander as soon as his feet hit the ground. “We love you, Xander!”

 

Though bewildered, the boy wasn’t all that upset at his position as the sandwich filling. “Hey, guys!” he shouted, calling up to Giles and Spike. “I think you might want to get down here for this.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike was fairly certain the colonel would have found some way to kill him if the lights hadn’t suddenly dimmed. They had all made it down the elevator shaft, into the Initiative itself, only to be greeted by several gun-toting soldiers. To say that their commanding officer had not been happy to see them again was an understatement. To say that he was looking at Spike with fear and loathing would have been right on the mark.

 

For his part, Spike was happy to stay out of the way and let the Slayer and her friends do most of the talking. He didn’t want to give the soldiers an excuse to shoot him, because he was certain they’d have no qualms doing so. While he wasn’t above adding his own sarcastic commentary (he’d had a few comments to make about group hugs earlier), one wrong word would get him zapped. Been there, done that, didn’t need a repeat experience.

 

So, even though the lights going out wasn’t necessarily a good sign, it also made it a lot harder for the soldiers to aim, and thus possibly hit, their targets. Spike heard one of the soldiers inform the colonel that the main power grid and backup were down. And then came the news that the containment areas had been breached.

 

Spike had some idea of what it meant to let a bunch of demons loose like that. Their innate need for violence and mayhem would be magnified by days’ worth of inactivity. The colonel’s stubborn refusal to believe that a mere slip of girl would be capable of doing him any good at all was going to get him killed. Him, and who knew how many more of their men.

 

Spike shared a look with Buffy in the dim emergency lighting, and they separated slightly as the colonel marched out, all but two of the soldiers following. Buffy took out the one closest to her, and as the second turned to help his comrade, Spike pulled his special knife out from his holster at his back and clocked him over the head with the pommel. The soldiers had disarmed them, of course, but Spike knew how to hide a weapon.

 

He stripped the unconscious soldiers of their weapons, tossing a gun to Xander, and taking his ax back. Even as he did so, Spike realized that the violence got easier. It became easier to distinguish between the love of the challenge and the adrenalin rush. Violence done in aid of the right thing was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, he supposed it put him on the road to being a hero, as unlikely as that seemed. Or, perhaps not a hero, but simply a man who knew the right thing to do and did it. That was something to aspire to.

 

“We’ve got to find Adam,” Buffy said, even as Willow moved over to the computer console.

 

“I’m on it,” Willow replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

 

Giles frowned. “The enjoining spell is touchy. It’s highly volatile, and dangerous. We can’t risk it being interrupted. We’ll need someplace quiet to do it.”

 

Spike and Xander shared a look. “Quiet?” Spike asked. “You wanted quiet, you could have stayed at your place.”

 

Giles gave him a look. “We’ll need to be close to Buffy.”

 

“Right.” Spike shook his head and muttered, “Guess that’s where I come in then.” As they waited for Willow to locate Adam, the sounds of a battle filtered up to them. Spike had no idea how they were even supposed to get to where Adam was in the first place. Of course, that’s probably just what the cyber-demon wanted—if they got killed on their way to see him, no skin off his nose. If his nose had skin. Spike wasn’t any too sure about that.

 

“How are we coming, Will?” Buffy asked.

 

“Almost there,” the witch said. “Hold on. There it is. See all those air ducts and conduits running to that room?” She pointed to the schematic on the screen.

 

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. So?”

 

“So there’s nothing there,” Willow explained. “Look.”

 

“It’s Adam,” Buffy said.

 

“Are you sure?” Giles asked.

 

Buffy nodded absently, already thinking of the battle ahead. “I’m sure. Willow, can you unlock it?”

 

Willow shook her head. “I don’t need to. All the door locks have been disengaged except for the ones that lead out.”

 

Xander pulled a face. “Demon open house.”

 

“Guess we get to close it down then,” Spike said pragmatically.

 

Buffy nodded. “We stick together. Spike? You think you can take the rear?”

 

Spike hefted the ax that he’d brought along. “I think I can manage it.”

 

There was a mad dash through the “demon open house,” as Xander had called it. Soldiers and demons were at each others’ throats in a free-for-all that rivaled any of the scenes of chaos he’d witnessed (or created) in his century and more of living. Spike used his ax, a part of him glorying in the mayhem that surrounded them. This was a piece of him that would not die; the demon who called himself Spike had left a deep imprint on the man, and the man who remained was beginning to accept that.

 

His muscles and reflexes as a human were still good. He wasn’t as strong, or as fast, of course, but almost as good. Sometimes knowledge is enough. It was his knowledge that told him that the Kraylor demon could only be killed by putting out its eyes, and that’s where he hit it with his ax. Spike sent his knife deep into the body of a Polgara demon with his left hand, even as his right hand eviscerated a Dullar. He whirled, ducking, to get away from a mean set of claws, and in the next moment leapt over a spiked tail. He’d cracked at least two more skulls and slit a throat before they reached the other side.

 

Spike gloried in the mayhem.

 

The last one through the door, Spike helped Buffy push a cart in front of it to prevent unwelcome intruders. “This gonna be alright, Watcher?” Spike asked.

 

Giles looked over at the ex-vampire, thinking that he made quite a picture. He had demon goo of some kind smeared over his gray t-shirt, and his black pants had a rip across one knee. It was the look in his eyes, though, one that reminded Giles very much of the vampire he had known. Somehow the resemblance only made him feel safer. “It will do.”

 

“As long as we don’t get blown up or anything,” Willow commented.

 

Xander grinned. “And what are the chances of that happening?”

 

“How long before the ritual takes effect?” Buffy asked Giles, ignoring the quips of her friends. The generalissimo attitude caught Spike’s attention, and he couldn’t help smiling. He loved it when the Slayer took charge like that. Strength in a woman was a turn-on for him.

 

“Five minutes, give or take,” Giles said.

 

“All right. Barricade the door after me.” She looked at Spike for a long time, their eyes saying what they could not put into words.

 

Xander grabbed her arm, and spoke Spike’s thoughts. “Buffy, I still don’t like you going in alone.”

 

The Slayer smiled at him. “I won’t be.” Her eyes caught Spike’s for one last look, and then she was gone. He helped the others block the door, and then stood back as they prepared for the spell.

 

“I’m not sure what this will look like, or what effect it will have on you,” Giles told him frankly, pulling him aside for a brief moment before the chanting began. “It’s imperative that you do not interrupt, however, no matter what happens.”

 

Spike nodded, swallowing hard. Magic typically made him a bit nervous; there was always a price to pay, after all. Magic of this magnitude made him doubly nervous, because he’d seen spells like this go awry before. He hated to think he might have to watch it go bad and not be able to do anything. The thought of the four of them being stuck together for eternity just wouldn’t leave his mind. Giles gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then went back to take his place in the triad.

 

He watched, a silent observer, as Giles lit a candle, and Willow began chanting. “The power of the Slayer and all who yield it. Last to ancient first, we invoke thee. Grant us thy domain and primal strength. Accept us in the power we possess. Make us mind and heart and spirit joy. Let the hand encompass us. Do thy will.”

 

Spike couldn’t help but feel a little awe as Willow, Xander, and Giles all put their cards down in turn. He also couldn’t help but envy their union with the Slayer. They would be one with Buffy in a way he would never know. Even though there might soon come a day when he could celebrate a union with her in a different way entirely, they would still have a history, a unity that he would never be able to match.

 

Willow spoke the words that sealed the spell, and Spike could feel the difference in the room. And even though he was not supposed to be a part of it, he could still catch a sense of what was going on at the edges of his mind. He could almost taste their essences, feel the power that each of them possessed. Even Xander, for all his seeming uselessness, had a part to play in this game. They each had something to offer.

 

What did he have to give, besides his now-fragile strength? It was a thought that sometimes woke him in the middle of the night, that made him wonder how Buffy could ever be happy with a mere human. Perhaps being a good man might be enough for himself, enough for the rest of the world, but could it be enough for the Slayer?

 

Listening as they spoke in unison, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine at the raw strength in their voices. This was strength without mercy or passion, but only purpose. Spike instinctively knew that it was the Slayer’s voice he was hearing. That part of Buffy that fed her strength and made her more than human. He loved that part of her, but he also loved her humanity, and he was suddenly glad that he wouldn’t see her while she was in the grip of this spell. He didn’t know that it wouldn’t change the way he viewed her. He also didn’t know that it wouldn’t cause him to desire to worship her that much more.

 

The banging on the outside door got his attention, and Spike swung around to face the entrance, knife in one hand and ax in the other. He heard Willow’s voice behind him saying, “Wow, that was—” They had come out of the spell, but he had no time for them, only time for the demon that came crashing into the room.

 

He sidestepped its trajectory, graceful as a cat, and lodged his ax in the back of its head, using his knife to stop the other that followed close on its heels. Spike turned to face the group. “You know, it’s a good thing you lot had me here. Otherwise, you would have been breakfast. Or maybe it’s dinner time around here.”

 

“Yes, Spike, it was certainly a good thing we had you around,” Giles replied, trying to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a minimum. He looked at the bodies of the demons, and hid a shudder.

 

“Definitely a good thing,” Xander agreed, trying to stand, and not quite managing it due to shaky legs. Spike came over and offered a hand to haul him up.

 

Spike looked at Giles expectantly. “Buffy’s okay, yeah? That’s why the spell ended, because you managed to defeat Adam?”

 

~~~~

 

Buffy went through the doors, feeling a lot better knowing that Spike was staying behind to look after them. From the spells she’d seen done in the past, the spell-casters had a tendency to lose sight of their surroundings.

 

Of course, that would be assuming that the spell worked and she managed to kill Adam. Otherwise, Spike would end up just being one more dead body.

 

She found Riley immediately, seated, a look of distress on his face. “Riley?” He didn’t move, didn’t speak. “Riley? Are you okay? Why won’t you answer me?”

 

“He can’t.” Adam’s deep voice startled her. He always seemed to be able to sneak up from behind, and Buffy wasn’t quite sure how that was possible. Adam was big, for one thing, and he was half-metal. You’d think he’d at least squeak.

 

She turned to look at him, Dr. Walsh and Dr. Engleman appearing. They both looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. “What’s going on with him?”

 

“He has not been programmed to talk to you,” Adam explained. “He is part of the final phase now, as you were supposed to be.”

 

“I don’t jump through hoops on command,” Buffy replied. “Sorry.”

 

“Oh.” Adam paused. “Kill her.”

 

Strong arms grabbed her from behind, and Buffy recognized Forrest’s voice as he spoke. “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

The Slayer knew that dead things could present challenges of both strength and skill, but dead things like this? When could she get back to normal dead things, like vampires? She’d even take a zombie or two at this point.

 

Walsh was getting way too close to her with whatever she had in her hand. A quick kick sent the former professor flying, and Buffy concentrated on taking Forrest down. What had to be most annoying was that she ought to have been able to do it with one hand tied behind her back.

 

And now she was losing. Forrest played around with her a little bit before bashing her head into the table. Buffy heard Riley say her name as she slowly got up.

 

“Shut up and watch me kill your girlfriend, Finn. That’s an order.”

 

“Not my boyfriend anymore, _Forrest_ ,” Buffy snarled. “Get with the program.” It might have been a mistake, making him mad, because he just came at her with that much more ferocity. Buffy found herself hard-pressed just to hold her own, and soon she found herself way too close to being put into restraints.

 

“That all you got?” Forrest asked.

 

Riley loomed behind him. “No, it’s not.” Forrest turned to look at him. “She’s still got friends on the inside.” He knocked out both Walsh and Engelman and then turned to struggle with Forrest. Buffy kicked the cyber-soldier to one side, looking at Riley with relief.

 

“I need to get to Adam. Like, now. Are you able?” Buffy asked.

 

He almost laughed. “Go.”

 

Buffy took off, and found Adam sooner than expected. There were the usual pleasantries, and then the fight really began. Adam worried her; he didn’t tire, and he didn’t seem to be rocked by any of her blows. She broke the spine in his arm, and it turned into a gun.

 

She took cover behind the computer console, and felt the spell descend on her. It felt as though she were being consumed by living fire, as though she were both more and less than she had ever been. Buffy could feel Willow’s power, Xander’s heart, Giles’ mind; she could feel the pure power of the First Slayer.

 

Buffy-Giles-Xander-Willow stood and looked at Adam, seeing him for the first time like the bug he was. The bug she was going to crush beneath her heel.

 

“You can’t last much longer,” Adam said, sounding puzzled.

 

“We can. We are forever.” There was a small, tiny part of herself that remained Buffy during the spell, and that part stood back and stared in wonder as the Hand spoke Sumerian, as the power rushed out of the Spirit. She put up a force field, and turned rockets into birds. She blocked every punch and stopped every kick.

 

She was strong. She was infinite. She was eternal. “You can never hope to grasp the source of our strength.” Buffy-Giles-Xander-Willow said. “But yours is right here.” She reached through his chest and pulled out the uranium core.

 

Adam fell to the ground, dead, and the power that looked like Buffy heard Riley call her name. Her task was not yet over, however, and she levitated the uranium, again speaking in Sumerian, and it disappeared into thin air. The power rushed out of her, and blackness rushed in.

 

She woke to find herself cradled in Riley’s arms. “Hey.”

 

“Hey yourself,” he replied. “You okay?”

 

Buffy laughed a little. “I think so. Quite a ride though.”

 

“What was that?”

 

She hesitated, unsure of how to explain. “Let’s just say it was combo-Buffy,” she said, using Xander’s terminology, thinking it as good as any. “What was that thing with you about?” She looked at his bloody shirt pointedly.

 

“Modification chip,” Riley explained. “The others?”

 

“I left them with Spike.” Buffy realized she was still in Riley’s arms, and she struggled to stand. Once she got to her feet, she found she was steady enough to help him stand. “We should get you out of here. We still have demons to kill. Can I count on you to make sure the other soldiers are on board?”

 

“Of course, Buffy,” Riley said. “Always.”

 

Buffy supported Riley through the lower level, and then up and into the room where she’d left her friends and Spike. Just in time to hear Spike ask the question about whether or not they’d defeated Adam.

 

“He’s history.” Spike’s head swiveled to stare at her and Riley. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Adam’s done.” She looked at the bodies of the dead demons and then at her boyfriend. “You up for a little more mayhem?” she asked. “We need to do clean-up. Riley’s going to organize the soldiers.”

 

“After you, Slayer,” Spike replied, and then they stepped out into the fray. This might be all he had to offer, Spike thought, but it would be enough. He would make sure it would be enough.

 

~~~~~

 

“You can come back with us if you want,” Buffy offered. They had all made it out of the Initiative alive, which now seemed like a miracle. She would never forget the sight of Riley digging the modification chip out of his chest on his own. In the end, Riley Finn had acquitted himself admirably, even if she had never been in love with him.

 

Riley shook his head. “No, I’ve got a debriefing to go to.” He hesitated, and then looked over at Buffy almost apologetically. “I’m leaving. Asking for a transfer. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble getting it.”

 

“Where will you go?” she asked, feeling a sense of sadness, though not loss.

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably go with Graham to Belize. I always wanted to travel, you know. And now, with the Initiative gone, and helping take Adam out, I’ll probably have my pick of commands.” Riley laughed a little. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a promotion out of this.”

 

They stood above ground, in Lowell House, and in the relative peace that surrounded them, it was hard to believe what they’d just faced and survived. It was always hard to believe what went on in the darkness while you stood in the light of day. It was no wonder the populace of Sunnydale managed to delude themselves. “I guess this is good-bye then,” Buffy said.

 

He just smiled. “Pretty much. You never know, though. Maybe I’ll be back. Lots of weird stuff happens in this town. They might need me here again.”

 

Buffy pulled him into a hug. “Good luck, Riley.”

 

“You too.” He gave her a gentle squeeze and then released her. “I’ll see you.”

 

Buffy watched another piece of her past slip away and turned to find Spike watching her with a peculiar expression on his face. He came up, and without saying a word, pulled her into a hug of his own. They stood there holding one another, until he leaned down and kissed her, long and slow, reassuring himself that it had all turned out right. “Where to now, luv?”

 

“My house,” Buffy replied. “Traditional post-apocalyptic movie-night. The whole gang’s invited.”

 

Spike shook his head in wonder. “That’s what Rupert said. Something about me being a part of the gang.”

 

“Oh, you’re definitely in,” she assured him. “Even if you haven’t gone through the initiation.”

 

“Initiation?” he inquired.

 

She grinned. “Yep. Initiation: you help stop an apocalypse and live to tell the tale.”

 

“Did that two years ago,” he reminded her.

 

“Well, two makes it good then.” Buffy gave him a big grin. “That means you’re only one behind everybody else.”


	14. The Great Advantage of Being Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did give serious thought about rewriting “Restless,” but then I had to face facts. I have no clue what half that symbolism meant, and I’m not even going to presume to try and “improve” the gang’s dreams. Suffice it to say they have them and that Spike and Riley play slightly different roles in everyone’s dreams but Buffy’s. You all can use your own imaginations as to who might fill those spots.

**“I wanna tell you/I wanna tell you just how I feel/I will show you/I will show you my love is real/Nobody’s ever gonna love you like I am/You never can deny that/Nobody’s ever gonna hold you like I am/I’ll love you ‘til I die/Until the day I die/I said “forever”/I said “forever” and I mean it/I made a promise/And I intend to always keep it/Forever is so far beyond the reach of my mind/So I’ll give all/I have, my heart, my love, my life.” ~Third Day, “’Til the Day I Die**

 

Spike was out in the kitchen getting drinks when Joyce came to talk to him. “How are you, Spike?”

 

He smiled at her. “I’m doing alright. Sorry about skipping out on you like that earlier.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, and don’t even think about coming in early tomorrow,” she replied warmly. “It’s simply nice to know that someone is looking out for my daughter.”

 

“It’s my pleasure,” Spike said, a mischievous look in his eye.

 

Joyce laughed lightly and pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Take the spare room bed tonight if you feel like it, William.”

 

“Thanks, Joyce.” He wandered out into the living room, glass of soda in hand. Buffy saw him and smiled, waving him over to the couch. Spike plopped down next to her, snaking his arm behind and pulling her in to rest against his chest. “Can’t believe you lot do this after every major battle,” he said.

 

Willow smiled over at him. “Well, we’re usually too wired to sleep.”

 

Spike shook his head. “You’ll have to excuse me when I drop off right away then,” he said. “Because I don’t think it’s going to take me all that long to get there.”

 

“That’s okay,” Buffy said comfortingly, patting his hand. “We’ll tuck you in.”

 

Giles snorted. “I won’t. Spike’s on his own.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll see how long you last old man,” Spike jeered.

 

Xander rolled his eyes. “Okay, guys? Anybody want to pick a movie?”

 

Spike watched as Harris plugged some damn thing into the VCR. He wasn’t sure who had been in charge of picking the movies, but none of the titles sounded all that interesting. Of course, it wasn’t like he was at all interested in staying up and watching the film. The feel of Buffy against his chest, friends surrounding him: Spike felt a sense of satisfaction like he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He slept.

 

And dreamt.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stood in the hallway of a Victorian house that he had faint memories of. The scents that wafted past his nose evoked stronger emotions than the familiar hallway. “What—”

 

He looked around wildly, not understanding. He pinched himself, thinking it was a dream, but he did not wake. Then his eyebrows shot up as he realized what it was he was wearing. Tweed. Spike hadn’t worn tweed since—“Bloody hell.”

 

“William! Such language!” His mother, Anne, stood looking at him.

 

Spike stared at her. She was alive, though he could hear her painful breathing. She was still dying, but she was as she had been when they had both been alive—the first time. He blinked, and she raised her own eyebrows, obviously waiting for an apology. “Sorry, mum. I, uh, stubbed my toe.”

 

Her disapproving frown gave way to a slight smile. “Even so. You will not win over any hearts by using such words. It is unbecoming a gentleman.”

 

“Right. Sorry about that, mum,” he apologized again.

 

Anne looked at her son strangely. “Are you sure you’re quite alright? You’re talking rather strangely tonight, William.” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

 

Spike remembered himself, remembered the way words had felt in his mouth once upon a time. “No, of course not, mother. I’m just—tired, you know.”

 

“Well, then you should go to bed, shouldn’t you?” Anne came over to him and gave him a warm hug. “Will you go to the party tomorrow night? I believe Cecily shall be there.”

 

Spike suddenly realized where he was, or rather, when he was. The night before the party, the night before he became a vampire. Two days before he sired his own mother. He swallowed hard. Seeing her there, it felt almost as though a spell had been cast over him. The part of him that was William did not want to meet a demon in the street. He wanted to stay with his mother, take care of her, as he should have done in the first place. “I don’t believe so,” he replied. “I do not see a need to attend the party tomorrow night. I feel it would better serve my time to stay here with you.”

 

Anne frowned, concerned. “You should not hide yourself away, William. You have so much to offer a young woman.”

 

William shook his head. “Perhaps. The right woman, at least. Cecily has better prospects than I could ever offer her.”

 

Anne looked at her son in surprise. “William, your prospects are good enough. And your sentiment—”

 

“Will not speak to her, I’m afraid,” he said smoothly. “I should have realized it long ago.” William tried to sound cheerful. “In any case, I’m sure I shall find a good woman someday. Until then, I already have a woman in my life.”

 

“Who—oh…” Anne smiled, and laughed a little as he kissed her cheek. “Well then, sleep well, William.”

 

~~~~~

 

A young, human William woke the next morning in the same bed he had fallen asleep upon. The part of himself that was still strongly connected to the memories of the demon was strangely quiet. He rose, washed, and dressed in the same manner he had so long ago. He spent his day quietly, just as he always had, taking care of his mother and reading.

 

It was odd, but he didn’t feel any sense of frustration or anger, stuck in a life he’d long outgrown. Instead, he accepted his fate quietly, and the piece of him that would always love violence and mayhem, that would always be brash and impulsive, slept on. He watched Anne fade away, as the days went by. He found himself marrying a woman for whom he had a strong affection, but no love. William had long since given up on both love and poetry. Though the memories of being a vampire and of Sunnydale were dim and increasingly dream-like, there was still the knowledge that his poetry was horrific, and there was only one woman he truly loved now.

 

It was William who nursed his sick mother and watched her die. William, who lay with his wife and did not love her. William, who doted on a young daughter with his eyes and her mother’s gentle spirit.

 

In the end, it was William who died of the same illness that had taken his mother when he was barely over thirty.

 

He died, and found himself standing in a dilapidated old house, the main hall blackened with soot. He was dressed in the clothes he had worn as a demon, complete with duster, and he heard a voice call out behind him.

 

“Do you understand now?” Spike turned to see Tara standing there, looking at him with a mixture of sympathy and sadness.

 

Spike shook his head. “Understand what?” he demanded. “Is this a dream? Because it feels bloody real.”

 

“It is and it is not,” Tara replied, though Spike knew it wasn’t really Tara. “It is what might have been, had you not been turned.”

 

Spike looked at her, and then around him. “So this is a sodding _It’s a Wonderful Life_? I bloody well hated that movie when it first came out. Didn’t need to live it.”

 

“Didn’t you?” she asked gently. “Given a choice, didn’t you choose to remain a human?”

 

Spike looked disgruntled. “Bloody lot of good that did me. Even knowing what I did, didn’t do anything of any importance. I was just another pansy-arsed bugger. Just another waste of space ‘gentleman’ like any of those other wankers that made my life hell.”

 

Tara smiled at him. “And your daughter that would have been? Would it help you to know that watching you sicken and die made such an impression upon her that she became a nurse? That she served the soldiers of the Great War and was known as an angel to those she helped?”

 

Spike swallowed hard. Seeing the dream of what might have been, even if he had never loved the woman named Margaret who became his wife…His daughter had been beautiful. “Yeah. She was something wasn’t she?” He paused. “Wait just a minute. You’re saying me not being a vampire made no difference at all? That being a member of the evil dead was better?”

 

“Look around you,” Tara said. Spike did as instructed, realizing that he was in the old Crawford mansion, and that it was much the worse for wear.

 

“What happened here?”

 

Tara pointed out the door, and Spike went to stand in the doorway, looking out on Hell. “You were not here. Angelus opened Acathla.” When Spike shook his head, Tara continued. “Spike was not here, but Angel and Buffy still had their perfect moment. Drusilla came to find her ‘daddy,’ and the Slayer was left to fight both of them herself.”

 

Spike spun to face her. “What about Buffy? Did she make it?” The look in Tara’s eyes told him all he needed to know. He shook his head and then looked away. “I don’t understand,” he confessed. “How is it that I could do more good as a vampire than as a human?”

 

“It is not being a human or being a vampire that matters. It is knowing who you are.”

 

Something that echoed in her voice caused Spike to look at her in wonder. “And who are you?”

 

“I am a voice that was loosed.” Something of power flickered in her eyes. “The others dream because they were caught up in the spell. It opened them to the power of the First Slayer. You dream because you must to understand your place.”

 

“My place?” Spike demanded. “What the hell are you on about? I’m an ex-vampire. I was no bloody good as a human, and I was a terror as a monster. Where does that leave me now?”

 

“Did you not understand?” The thing that looked like Tara asked. “You are needed as you are.”

 

Spike turned and found himself standing between—himself. “Will you choose?” William asked.

 

“You gonna pick one of us, mate?” Vampire-Spike asked him.

 

Spike turned from one to another. Tara looked over at him. “What will you choose? Who are you?”

 

Spike thought about growing up in his mother’s home, thought about the bloody awful poetry he had written, thought about Drusilla and all she had given him. He thought about the fact that he only truly lived after he was dead, and that he never would have known his Slayer had he not crawled out of his own grave.

 

The truth was that he never would be the man that he was without William the human, or Spike the demon. In the end, it was an easy answer.

 

“I am William Brighton,” he answered her. “I am William the Bloody, the Scourge of Europe. I am Spike, the Slayer of Slayers.” Spike laughed. “I am William Giles, and I’m bloody well in love with the girl I’d planned on killing.”

 

“Was it worth it, William?” Spike turned to see his mother standing there. He had no idea if it was just an apparition, or if, somehow, it was really her spirit. “Yeah, mum, I think it was.” Spike considered it a bit longer, and then said with more surety, thinking of a certain blonde girl. “I think it was all worth it, in the end.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike woke on the couch, next to Buffy, startled out of his dream by the sound of choking. He sat, paralyzed by his dream and its import for a moment, realizing that he finally understood. He’d known he needed to be both; he hadn’t quite realized that he was both yet. That it would not have been better if he had never been a vampire. After all, as evil as he had been, Spike was a little different than any other vampire. Had William never been turned, there would have been another to take his place. Perhaps it had been destiny that had led Drusilla to choose him that night. On the other hand, perhaps he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

Or the right place at the right time.

 

Spike looked over at Buffy tenderly, his eyes widening as he saw her struggle. Remembering what dream-Tara had told him, his eyes flew to the others, and he could see Giles twitching, Xander gasping, and Willow struggling as though someone were choking her.

 

“Buffy!” he called, trying to shake her out of it, but there was no response. Spike went to the others in turn, but whatever had them in its clutches was too strong. He came back to sit next to the Slayer on the couch, watching her and waiting for her to wake up.

 

When she came to, she did so suddenly—immediately. Buffy’s eyes opened to look straight into Spike’s worried blue ones. “Spike.”

 

“Buffy.” He sounded infinitely relieved. “I couldn’t wake you up. The others—”

 

Buffy turned to look at her friends, who were also waking. “I think they’re okay.”

 

They sat around the dining room table, wearing similar expressions of disbelief. “The First Slayer,” Willow finally said, for all of them. “Wow.”

 

“Not big with the socialization,” Xander commented.

 

“Or the floss,” Willow added.

 

Giles shook his head. “Somehow, our joining with Buffy and—and invoking the essence of her power was an affront to that power.”

 

“And you didn’t think of that before you did the spell?” Spike asked, still a little disturbed to think that he might have lost Buffy while she was dreaming. Not to mention the fact that he was still a little shaken by his own dreams.

 

“I did warn that there could be dire consequences,” Giles replied, slightly disgruntled.

 

Buffy looked over at him. “Yeah, but you say that when we chew too fast.”

 

Spike looked up at the rustling sound to see Joyce looking at them sleepily, in her bathrobe. “I’m guessing I missed something,” she said.

 

“The First Slayer tried to kill us in our sleep,” Willow explained.

 

“Oh.” Joyce looked around at the group. “Do you all want some hot chocolate?”

 

There were five affirmatives at once, and Spike rose immediately. “I’ll give you a hand, Joyce.”

 

“Thank you, William,” she said. Spike looked over at Xander with curiosity as he passed, noticing that Harris was blushing furiously. He caught the younger man’s eye and quirked an eyebrow, but Xander looked away immediately turning an even deeper shade of red. “Did the—First Slayer?—try to kill you too?”

 

Spike looked over at Joyce, who was beginning to heat the milk on the stove. “No. No, I wasn’t involved in the spell. Had a different dream, I guess. Dreamed I was back home. With my mum.”

 

Joyce was silent, waiting patiently for him to finish. “She would have died anyway, you know,” Spike finally stated. “When—when it happened, she didn’t have all that long. I would have been with her to the end.”

 

“Then it wasn’t all that different, was it?” Joyce asked quietly. “You were still with her at the end.”

 

Spike stared at her, suddenly intent. “You know how I feel about you, yeah? I mean, you know how I feel about your daughter, but it’s more than just you being her mum. It’s more than Giles being who he is, and the others being her friends.”

 

“I know.” Joyce put a tender hand to his cheek. “You have made a place for yourself here. I’m very proud of you, Spike.”

 

“It’s who I am.” He drew her into an embrace, kissing her cheek fondly, much as he had embraced his own mother. Spike was a man who needed others, even if he had finally defined himself on his own terms.

 

For twenty years, he’d chased across Europe as part of its Scourge. They had been a family, of sorts, he and Drusilla and Angelus and Darla. Then Angel had been cursed with his soul, and Darla had left soon after the Boxer Rebellion, and it had been he and Dru. She had been his black goddess, his sun, and the center of his universe.

 

But losing Drusilla meant losing his identity, and what had he been after she left him? A poor monster with a yen for Slayer’s blood, defining his existence by his hunt for Buffy. In the end, it was meaningless, still an attempt to describe himself in relation to another.

 

Now—now Spike knew who he was, by himself, on his own. He knew at least one of the possible futures he might have had if Dru hadn’t found him that night. Maybe it didn’t make any difference, that he had died. But it made a difference that he had existed.

 

He was William. He was Spike. Knowing that, he had something to offer to those around him, even if it was only himself. Knowing that, he could remain connected without losing himself in them. “You were right, y’know,” he said, finally pulling back.

 

“About what?” she asked, smiling at him, looking just a little misty-eyed.

 

He returned the smile, dimples showing. “About it getting easier. It does.”

 

~~~~~

 

The others went home after their hot chocolate, but Spike decided to take Joyce up on her offer and stay in the guest bedroom. He followed Buffy up the stairs, and noted when she paused. “Everything alright, pet?”

 

Buffy looked back at him. Spike was giving her that look, the one that said he would listen to her until the world ended and would love every minute. “Yeah. I think so. It was—just the dream, you know?”

 

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

 

Buffy shook her head. “No. Well, maybe. I—I heard you telling mom you had a dream too. You want to share?”

 

“I show you mine, you show me yours?” Spike asked with some amusement. He hesitated. “Yeah, sure, luv.”

 

Spike wandered into Buffy’s bedroom as she washed her face and got ready for bed. It was odd to be here even now, looking at the life of the Slayer from the inside. It was still a position that stunned him. He was holding onto Mr. Gordo, and sitting on the bed when Buffy came back to the room, already in her pajamas. “You want something to sleep in?” she offered. “I could probably—”

 

“Don’t need anything,” he replied, tilting his head with a smile. “But thanks.”

 

Buffy saw he had Mr. Gordo in his hands, and sadness flickered in her eyes, almost too fast for Spike to see it. “Luv?”

 

“Angel,” she said, sitting next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Long time ago. I came home, and he was waiting for me and holding Mr. Gordo. Before he went evil.”

 

“Things change,” he observed. “Almost too fast to keep up, sometimes.” Spike put the stuffed pig back on the bed and put an arm around her. “So. The rest of your dream?”

 

Buffy told him about it, including the part with Riley calling her a killer and the part where the thing that looked like Tara told her that she didn’t know what was to come. “She said I didn’t even know what I was.”

 

By this point, they were both lying down. Spike’s head had somehow ended up in the crook of Buffy’s arm, and she was playing with his hair. It lay curly and still mussed from the after-battle clean up, and she wound the strands over and through her fingers. His eyes were closed, and for a moment Buffy thought he was asleep, until he spoke. “None of us ever know what we are.”

 

She gave a little huff. “Okay, cryptic-guy.”

 

He laughed, and she could feel him shift against her. “Can I tell you what I dreamed? Might help.”

 

“Okay.” He told her, sparing no details, and sparing William not at all. When he had finished, Buffy said quietly, “So what you’re saying is that even though you weren’t you, you still loved me?”

 

“As confusing as that might sound, yeah.” Spike sighed. “It’s taken me this long just to start to figure out what I am now. To find some sort of balance between the man and the demon. Didn’t really like either one of them on their own.”

 

Buffy’s hand stilled as she considered her words. “You mean, finding a balance between being me and being the Slayer.”

 

Spike shook his head as best he could in his position. “No, that’s what I’m saying. You _are_ the Slayer, just like I’m Spike and William both. It’s not about balance. It’s about finding a place inside yourself you can live in.”

 

“What if I can’t?” Buffy asked. “Tonight, that spell—I felt the power. She said—she said the Slayer is always alone. I mean, I know I’m not alone. I have my friends and you and mom and Giles, but…”

 

Spike twisted so that he was face to face with her, his eyes dark with passion. “Buffy, luv, we’re each of us alone. And I hate to say it, but in your little group, you’re each of you gonna feel more alone than most sometimes.” When her face fell, he touched her cheek, asking gently for her eyes to meet his gaze. “It’s why you lot lost your way. Going through different things, it’s easy to forget about everybody else, and that they’re changing too. It’s when you come together again, you know you’re stronger for it. And you’ll always come back together.”

 

“How do you know that?” Buffy asked him. “Things change. Maybe someday we won’t.”

 

“Maybe.” Spike looked away, his face troubled. “I’ve fought two other Slayers, pet. And I killed the both of them. I’m not proud of it, not now, but I know a little bit about Slayers because of it. None of them last as long as you have. None of them lasted as long as you will. You’re different, Buffy. Unique. We all see it. You’ll find a place you fit, you feel comfortable, and you’ll know it when you do.”

 

He looked so sad just then, that Buffy grabbed his hand, wanting to offer comfort for whatever reason that he needed it. “Then why the long face, Spike?”

 

“Because there might not be a place for me when you do.”

 

It was this part of him that startled her. The part of Spike that was so obviously William, so insecure. And yet, maybe it was still Spike, and half of who he had been was only a mask. She loved him. Buffy stared at him, stunned by his words and her own realization. She had fallen hard for him, and she hadn’t even noticed. And now she loved him, but she wasn’t quite ready to say it. “You didn’t include yourself in the part of the group that always comes back together no matter what.”

 

“Buffy—” Spike frowned. “You lot have a history.”

 

“And we don’t?” she asked, amused. “You said you wouldn’t leave unless I asked you to. Here’s fair warning from me. I’m not going to ask you to.”

 

“Then I suppose you’re stuck with me, Miss Summers,” Spike said gallantly. “I fear for the safety of your heart.”

 

He was silly and noble and beautiful all at once, and Buffy felt her heart turn over in her chest. “I think someone might have already stolen it,” she replied. “Some bleach-blonde guy with blue eyes and killer abs.”

 

“So you only want me for my body?” he asked facetiously.

 

Buffy laughed. “There’s a lot more to you than just a pretty face, Spike.” She stopped. His eyes were so deep she might drown in them. “Layers and layers.”

 

“There’s so much to you,” he whispered to her. “You’ll find out what that First Slayer was on about and make her eat your dust. And then we’ll outlaw apocalypses and live happily ever after.”

 

Buffy smiled. Maybe Spike was right, because she saw herself so clearly in his eyes. Having him around, she might actually find that place he was talking about. One of these days. It certainly gave her one more reason to keep him around. “Sounds good to me,” she said, and pillowing her head on his chest, she slept deeply and with no dreams.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles strode into the gallery the next afternoon, taking a deep breath. He and Joyce had discovered a number of similarities in recent months, besides their children. They also had a taste for, or at least could remember, the same music. They liked fine things, and she really made a rather decent cup of cocoa. There was no reason to continue in a strained manner. It was ridiculous.

 

“Rupert.” Joyce came out of the back room to greet him warmly. “I know you knew Spike was coming in later this afternoon. Did you come back to take a look at the rest of the gallery?”

 

He smiled, a little stiffly. “Uh, yes, as a matter of fact.” Giles hesitated, wondering if he was turning into a complete nutter. “Although, I was wondering if you might like to have dinner sometime. With me, that is.”

 

Joyce gazed at him for a long moment, her expression enigmatic. “You know,” she finally said, “I think I would like that very much.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Hey there.” Buffy turned to find Spike standing casually in the door of her bedroom. She had moved back home for the summer, and was starting to unpack and put her things away. It looked as though he’d just gotten done at the gallery, since he was wearing gray slacks and a crimson shirt.

 

She smiled, coming over to give him a quick “hello” kiss. “Hey yourself,” she replied. “Not that I mind, but what are you doing here?”

 

Spike pulled her in and held her to him. “Your mum invited me home for dinner,” he replied. “Benefits of working for your girl’s parental figure.”

 

Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist. “Well, I’m glad you could come then. It’s going to be way too boring this summer with you working and me not in school.” She paused. “I can’t believe I actually said that I would be bored while not in school.”

 

Spike felt her forehead, as though checking for a fever. “Well, I don’t think you’re running a temperature, luv, but it’s hard to say.”

 

Swatting his hand away, she sighed. “It’s just that you’re busy all day, and I’m less busy, and it would be really nice to spend my not-busy time with you.”

 

“Good thing I left my nights open then,” he commented, with a suggestive tilt of his head.

 

She looked at him inquisitively. “What happened to the ‘moving things slow’ philosophy?”

 

“Nothing.” Spike pulled back and gave her a serious look. “You up for dinner with me tomorrow night? And before you say anything I got the next day off too.”

 

Buffy realized what he was saying without really saying. “Okay. Sure, I’m up for dinner. Where are we going?”

 

“Somewhere nice,” Spike said, still looking serious. “Got something I wanted to tell you.”

 

She wanted to ask what that was, but didn’t. Spike didn’t seem like he was in a sharing mood, and even though her curiosity was killing her, she’d respect his reservation. He had said something about wanting their first time to be special. Buffy happened to like special.

 

“Okay,” she agreed. “Tomorrow night then.”

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy dressed carefully for their date. It was the first time they’d been able to actually make plans and then follow through on them. It was certainly the first time she’d been able to go out to a nice restaurant for a while.

 

The red dress she chose was a heart-stopper, and she was looking forward to watching Spike’s jaw drop. He came to the door to pick her up, two bouquets of roses in his hands: one red, one yellow. “For you,” he said, handing her the red roses. When Joyce appeared at the door behind her daughter, Spike handed her the yellow roses.

 

“Spike, how thoughtful,” Joyce said, smiling. “I’ll just put these in water.” She took both bouquets and disappeared back into the kitchen.

 

Spike turned his eyes to Buffy, who was looking drop-dead gorgeous in her dress, the low-cut front and fitted bodice showing off her figure to good effect. The uneven hem fluttered around her calves, giving him tantalizing glimpses of lean legs. He gave her a slow once-over, and then murmured in a low voice, “You look beautiful, Buffy.”

 

A purely feminine smile of appreciation curled Buffy’s lips as she said, “So do you.” He was wearing black on black: black pants, dress shirt, and silk tie. Spike looked both dangerous and completely yummy. Buffy rather hoped that he might be her dessert.

 

Joyce came back to see them both out. “Have fun tonight, you two.”

 

“Don’t wait up for us, Mom,” Buffy said.

 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Spike said, holding a gallant arm out for the Slayer. Buffy let him escort her out, and she almost didn’t recognize the Desoto, which had been freshly washed and cleaned, the paint removed from the windows.

 

Neither said much as Spike drove to the restaurant. Buffy let her hand rest comfortably in his, and while she was terribly curious about what Spike had planned, she was also content to simply be with him. After all the drama and activity of recent weeks, she was just happy to take a break from it all.

 

Not since she’d been with Angel, long ago, had she been so comfortable just being with a man. Even being with Riley had felt like she was putting on a front. With Spike, there was no pretending, no need to be anything other than Buffy. He already knew her, and Buffy thought she might be getting to know him as well.

 

“So where are we going?” she asked, after they’d driven for about 15 minutes.

 

He glanced over at her, his blond hair startlingly visible in the light from street lamps. “Place I know about halfway to L.A. Decent food. I think you’ll like it.”

 

The silence stretched out for a while. “When are you going to tell me what this evening’s all about?”

 

“After we get to the restaurant,” he replied briefly.

 

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she looked at him. “And if I die of curiosity before then?”

 

“You’re the Slayer. You’ll survive,” Spike said with a smile.

 

She rolled her eyes. “You know, that’s really frustrating.”

 

“It’s called anticipation. Makes getting there even sweeter.”

 

Buffy sighed. He really wasn’t giving out information. “Either that, or whatever you’ve got to say has you so nervous you’re postponing it.”

 

Something flickered over his face, and Buffy realized that she’d inadvertently hit the nail on the head. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Good nervous or bad nervous?”

 

“That would depend on you, luv,” he replied with a rueful smile. “But I’m hoping for good.”

 

They drove the rest of the way to the restaurant in silence, Spike not wanting to say anything and Buffy too busy trying to figure out what it was he was going to tell her. Under different circumstances, she might have expected a marriage proposal, but they hadn’t been dating that long. She knew he had a clean bill of health, so it couldn’t be that he was sick.

 

She was still pondering when Spike pulled the car up in front of a restaurant on the outskirts of a small town halfway between Los Angeles and Sunnydale. “Here we are,” he announced unnecessarily, and then came around to her side of the car to open her door for her.

 

“You know, you’re really starting to scare me,” Buffy told him as she took his hand to let him help her out of the car. “I mean, I’ve seen you be polite before, but you’re on your best behavior.”

 

Spike shrugged, and somehow the familiar movement comforted her. “It’s a date, yeah? I’m supposed to be on my best behavior.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well, not that I don’t appreciate the chivalry, but I’ve seen you with demon goo all over you, I’ve seen you with the flu, and I’ve seen you up to your neck in my mom’s filing system. Normally on first dates you’re just getting to know someone. I think we’re probably past that point.”

 

Spike’s shoulders lost a little of their tension. “Suppose so.” He glanced over there, his face full of a self-deprecating amusement. “This is a bit different for me, Buffy. I’ve never actually dated anybody before.”

 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, the dual bouquets were worth major points.” They walked into the restaurant, and Buffy’s eyes widened. “Okay, you know, you have points for about six months right now.”

 

The restaurant was beautiful, sophisticated and stunning, and the host who met them was completely deferential. “May I help you?”

 

“Reservations for William Giles,” Spike said, his voice slipping into the smooth tones of his childhood. Buffy glanced over at him with surprise, but didn’t say anything.

 

“Of course. Follow me, please.” They followed the short, portly man through the restaurant, back to an out of the way corner table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” he informed them, before he left them with the menus.

 

They looked over their choices in silence, until Buffy finally lost patience. “Okay. Spike, what is—”

 

The waiter showed up just then. “My name is Jeff, and I’ll be serving you this evening…”

 

Buffy resisted the urge to growl, and instead managed to smile sweetly. She asked for water and let Spike order the special for both of them. Once Jeff had again left them alone, Buffy gave her boyfriend her most serious “Slayer” look. “Spill.”

 

Spike looked a little sheepish. “I was thinking maybe we could make it through dinner first.”

 

“Do you really want to be so nervous you can’t eat?” she asked.

 

He sighed. “No. Suppose not.” Spike reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small box, handing it to her across the table. “Thing is—” Spike cleared his throat and continued. “Thing is, it’s hard for me to be with a girl and not mean for it to last forever. I’m not built that way, Buffy.” Spike fiddled with his napkin. “Wanted to do something to show you how I felt—let you know I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Buffy opened the box, and her eyes widened as she saw what it contained. “It’s not meant to be an engagement ring,” he explained. “Not yet, anyway. It’s—I guess it’s a promise ring. My promise that I’m not going to leave you.”

 

With wide eyes, Buffy pulled the ring out of its padding. It was simple, a gold and silver strand entwined to form one band. Feeling a little foolish, Spike explained, “It’s a symbol of your life and mine coming together.” At Buffy’s continued silence, Spike continued stammering nervously. “You don’t have to wear it on any particular finger or anything. I mean, you don’t have to wear it at all, if you don’t want. I’d like for you to keep it, but—”

 

Buffy cut off his nervous rambling with one finger on his lips. Then, slowly, deliberately, she slid the ring on her left hand. “That’s where you wear a promise ring, you big doof,” she said gently. And then, even more softly, “I love you, Spike. What you’ve managed to do in the last year, the ways you’ve changed, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

Spike blinked, stunned, unable to say anything at all. He had wondered, right up until that moment, if Buffy really loved him, if she really wanted to be with him, or if he was just the pit stop on the way to something better. Her words, and the way she wore his ring, put all his fears to rest.

 

Not to mention the fact that they lit a fire deep inside him. “You sure you’re hungry?” Spike asked abruptly.

 

Buffy smiled, and then rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what he was talking about. “I’m starving. And we’ve waited this long. We can wait a while longer.”

 

It was true enough, and now that the painful part of the evening was over for Spike, he let himself relax and enjoy Buffy’s company. They told stories, each one of them trying to outdo the other with tall tales. They told tales of past hurts, each wanting to cry or rage on the other’s behalf. They loved each other with their words, their secrets, building up the intimacy of the evening with everything they said.

 

By the time they left the restaurant, neither one of them was completely sure they could wait to get back to Spike’s apartment, but he had promised both Buffy and himself that it was going to be special. Buffy kept their hands entwined on the way back, teasing him by massaging his palm and fingers, until he thought he might go mad with desire.

 

Their lips were already dueling before they even got to his door, and Spike fumbled for the key while trying to concentrate on the kiss. He got them inside, then locked the door behind them, pulling back to take a deep breath and take another long look at Buffy. “You’re beautiful,” he said reverently.

 

“So are you,” she replied, smiling, and went with him willingly back to the bedroom. Spike shakily lit the candles he’d placed around the room for just this occasion, and turned back to look at her.

 

Buffy met his eyes, and saw in their depths that he knew her. Spike _saw_ her, and she loved him for it. “I love you, Spike.”

 

He reached for her, his fears falling away like old rags. In her words and in her eyes he saw the truth. The great advantage of being alive had everything to do with this one, perfect moment, and Spike wouldn’t give it up for the whole world.

 

_the great advantage of being alive_

_(instead of undying)is not so much_

_that mind no more can disprove than prove_

_what heart may feel and soul may touch_

_—the great(my darling)happens to be_

_that love are in we,that love are in we_

_and here is a secret they never will share_

_for whom create is less than have_

_or one times one than when times where—_

_that we are in love,that we are in love:_

_with us they’ve nothing times nothing to do_

_(for love are in we am in I are in you)_

_this world(as timorous itsters all_

_to call their cowardice quite agree)_

_shall never discover our touch and feel_

_—for love are in we are in love are in we;_

_for you are and I am and we are(above_

_and under all possible worlds)in love_

_a billion brains may coax undeath_

_from fancied fact and spaceless time—_

_but by the sizeless truth of a dream_

_whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea._

_For love are in you am in I are in we_

_~e.e. cummings_


End file.
